The Kittens
by hwshipper
Summary: Additional fic in this 'verse: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and Finn, the love of his life. Part 4: Finn's working undercover and this tests his relationship with Ziggy to the max.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Kittens  
**Author**: **hwshipper**  
**Pairings**: OMC/OMC (Chris/Brian), House/Wilson established  
**Warning**: Despite the title, there are no baby cats in this fic. Sorry!  
**Beta**: am further in debt than ever to **srsly_yes**

**Summary**: Brian consults House. About Chris.  
**A/N**: Follows Prostates and Plum Pudding.

**The Kittens**

Brian was sitting on the treatment table in Exam Room One, hugging his knees, and wondering if it was too late to just leave, when House came swinging in the door. He was scowling, with a preoccupied look in his clear blue eyes, but they focused swiftly when they saw who was waiting for him.

"Brian!" House shut the door behind him. "And here was I trying to get out of clinic a minute ago. If only I'd known, I'd have tried harder."

"Nice to see you too, House," Brian said mildly.

House's eye dropped downwards to the bake pan sitting next to Brian on the table. "That looks like bribery."

"Mississippi Mud Pie, actually."

"Definitely bribery." House sat down in a swivel chair and scooted himself across the room towards Brian. "So, what hideous illness do you want me to treat? Tell me it's not an STD. It'll take more than pie to do that."

"I'm fine," Brian hastened to say. "I was visiting Princeton to see my sister, she made the pie." Brian had helped, mainly by assisting his toddler nephew in scraping the bowl. "I just thought I'd drop in."

"A social call?" House arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell Wilson."

Brian was regretting his visit in a big way now, but it seemed too late to back out. He came to the point. "I wanted to ask your medical opinion about something. About Chris."

House snorted in a disgusted kind of way. "And what's lover boy been up to? Afraid he's on the white powder again?"

"No." It had been four months since Chris had collapsed at Princeton Plainsboro following an accidental overdose, while Linus had been recovering from his prostate surgery. It had frightened the crap out of all of them, and Brian was sure Chris was clean and would be for the foreseeable future.

"Then what?" House looked at his watch. "I have a patient, you know. A real one, not a clinic time-waster, bleeding out of every orifice. Give me something more interesting than that, or I might just leave now."

"Chris seems to have lost his sex drive," Brian blurted out, and knew as he spoke that he shouldn't have come.

House's jaw dropped and he regarded Brian with something rather like awe. "Okay, you've got me."

* * *

It really should have been Linus, not Chris.

Linus had his prostate removed in major surgery, yet had barely gotten rid of his catheter before his first attempt at sex. Brian knew this because he and Chris had been driving home from a theatergoing weekend in New York City, and dropped by Linus's and Raul's house en route following an excitable phone call. Linus insisted that they visit, even though it was well after midnight by the time they got there.

They found him sitting in his enormous living room with a large glass of brandy and a beam on his face. He told them with evident relief that although he'd found an erection wasn't possible yet, the nerve-sparing surgery had worked well ("I must thank Dr. Chase for that,"), reciprocal handjobs had been achieved, and the sensation was as it ever was.

"Orgasm without an erection?" Chris was foolish enough to query. "How does that even work?"

"It really is most different, Chris, I can tell you!" Linus said earnestly. "And coming without any come, I never would have warranted it--"

Brian decided he could live without knowing any more detail. He muttered an excuse and wandered off to find Raul, leaving Chris and Linus in conversation. Raul was upstairs in his room, curled up like a cat on the bed. Brian thought he was asleep and started to back out of the door, when Raul's long eyelashes lifted and he smiled through deep dark liquid eyes.

"Hey." Brian came to sit next to Raul. "Linus is telling Chris all about your all new sex life."

Raul yawned and stretched, flexing slender yet muscular arms. "He is not one to hide anything, as you know. But, he seems to be recovering as well as he could be, the doctors say."

"And very quickly," Brian remarked.

Raul tugged on Brian's sleeve, pulling him down onto the bed. "Too quickly. The doctors did tell him it was very early, but he wasn't going to listen. I told him too, but he wasn't going to listen to me, either. I'm worried he's going to take things too fast and hurt himself."

"Ah." Brian snuggled down next to Raul.

"He seems to think he has to do it for _me_," Raul went on, a note of frustration in his voice. "As if I might leave him if we couldn't have sex anymore! I can't make him understand, all I want is for him to heal from the surgery and be healthy without the cancer. Nothing else matters..."

Brian looped a soothing arm around Raul's neck, and after a while Raul relaxed enough to fall asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. Brian started to drift off himself, but woke when Chris came into the room and touched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shall we go, or do you want to crash here?" Chris asked quietly.

"Let's go," Brian mumbled, and managed to extricate himself from the bed without waking Raul up.

As they drove away, Chris remarked, "Linus will be disappointed you weren't fucking Raul upstairs. He said he hoped you were, 'cause he can't do that himself right now."

Brian snorted a little with amusement. "Good chat?"

Chris pulled a face. "Too much information, really."

* * *

"I am just dying to hear the gory details." House could not conceal his glee. "But--before you go on, this is clearly going to be a difficult case, so I need a consult from my professional colleague. He has better personal knowledge of this patient, as you know." House reached into a pocket for his pager.

Brian sighed, and sat back to wait for Wilson.

House remarked as they waited, "If Wilson heard that you turned up on your own with no Chris in tow and not getting any at home, sneaked into my clinic session..." Sharp blue eyes raked Brian up and down. "He's gonna assume you came here to get into my pants."

"Maybe he wouldn't be too far wrong," Brian deadpanned, daring a wink.

"Look, but don't touch," House's voice was stern but his eyes were smiling.

Wilson arrived in Exam Room One a minute later, looking even more busy and preoccupied than House had. He stopped short at the sight of Brian. "Whoa. Brian? What's up?"

"Chris doesn't want to have sex with him anymore," House said with far too much relish.

"Hey, Dr. Wilson," Brian said weakly, now really, _really_, wishing he hadn't come.

"Thank you very much for the plum pudding, by the way," Wilson said politely, sitting down. "It was excellent. So, what's the problem? Penile erectile dysfunction?"

"No." Brian had been thinking about this quite a bit, googled it a lot, and was sure. "He doesn't have any problem getting it up when he wants to. It's just... he doesn't seem to _want _to, much."

"Reduced libido?" Wilson queried. "That's...really quite unusual, in men."

"And we're talking about Chris, the lean mean sex machine," House put in. "Really quite _unbelievable _is how I'd put it. So, what happened?"

* * *

Brian got home from his screenwriting evening class, buzzing with energy after receiving a morsel of praise from the instructor. He found Chris slumped on the couch, idly channel hopping.

"How was it?" Chris asked, as Brian came in, kicking off sneakers and shrugging off his jacket.

"Awesome. The prof liked the killer trolls, Chris, honest! At least, she said there was potential." Brian perched on the couch next to Chris, bent to kiss his brow.

"Great." Chris grinned, and stretched a little. "We'll just wait for Hollywood to come calling, then."

Brian snuggled up next to Chris, and started watching the TV with half an eye, still inwardly wallowing in delight at his achievement. Happy soon turned into horny, as he arched his groin against Chris's hip, nuzzling Chris's neck, until Chris nuzzled back a little and reached for Brian's fly.

One swift satisfying handjob later, Brian closed his eyes and rested for a minute, then moved to reciprocate. But Chris had shifted away, and murmured, "S'okay, I'm tired. Tomorrow, maybe."

Brian might have not thought anything of it, except he then found that Chris wasn't jumping to jump him tomorrow either.

And when they did next have sex the day after that, it quite distinctly felt like Chris was humoring him, going through the motions, with his mind elsewhere. The predatory gleam that had never been far from Chris's eye seemed to have gone AWOL.

Brian didn't really know what to do. Chris wasn't the kind of man to be seduced by chocolates and flowers. Generally speaking, the way to seduce him was to walk in the room in a tight pair of pants, or no pants at all. But that kind of thing didn't seem to be working right now.

* * *

"There could be physical causes for reduced libido; low testosterone levels, alcohol, drugs." Wilson saw Brian's _fuck-it-not-cocaine-again_ face at the latter, and hastened to add, "Some prescription medication can reduce libido, for example."

"I deny it," House said.

"I mean, it's only been four months since he collapsed here in the hospital, just before Christmas," Wilson persisted. "Is he seeing a doctor at home? What do they say?"

"He has regular appointments, doctor says he's fine." Brian had accompanied Chris to the doctor's office a number of times. "His heart and liver's fine, he recovered really well. Still got high blood pressure, but that's all."

"High blood pressure is a cause of erectile dysfunction," Wilson pointed out.

"No, I'm sure it's reduced libido." Brian was definite. "But why? He's not taking any medication, he's cut way down on the booze and is eating really healthily, exercising, everything."

"Psychological causes are more likely for reduced libido anyway," House declared. "Depression, stress--"

"I don't think he's depressed." Brian knew what depression was like; he'd been there. Rock bottom face down on his living room floor, alone and unable to see the point of going on...

"Depression doesn't have to mean suicidal," House said, as if he'd read Brian's mind. "He could be mildly depressed for any number of reasons. Cutting down on those malt whiskies could make anyone depressed."

"What about stress, Brian?" Wilson asked. "Chris was very stressed from work when he had his, um, episode here."

"And you weren't getting much then, either," House put in.

"He's not stressed about work anymore. He's reduced his workload all over the place." Brian was certain of his ground here. "I made him. He's delegating much more to his managers, everywhere. Like, the club got a refurb a couple of months ago, and he left it all to his manager to choose the color scheme, employ the decorators, everything. Chris hardly did a thing."

* * *

Chris had long been in the habit of closing the club for a week each February, the quietest month, for a refurb. Occasionally this was a wholesale redesign, more usually it was just a paint job. Returning to work after his crisis and enforced stay at Princeton Plainsboro, Chris had entrusted the redecoration to Ferdinand, the club manager, with just three directions: _1) don't touch my office, 2) keep to budget, _and _3) don't do anything to the private bar that Linus wouldn't like_.

"Linus, but not you?" Brian asked, amused.

"When I first bought this place, Linus invested in it on the condition I created a place he'd want to come and bring his friends." Chris shrugged a little. "I bought him out a long time ago, but I've always stuck to that promise."

So Ferdinand had almost a free hand. The upstairs private bar had been painted in soothing stylish shades of duck egg blue and chocolate brown, and Linus and the regulars collectively approved. Brian saw Chris's face constrict in agony at the first sight of the canary yellow color selected for the downstairs bar, but he hadn't voiced any objection, and lo and behold, once it was finished the overall effect was very striking. And it worked. New people visited, and stayed, and came back.

What really made Brian think there was something wrong was the lack of interest Chris showed in bedding the Kittens.

The Kittens were a bunch of young men who had flocked to the club following the refurbishment and an advertising blitz by Ferdinand. Their collective name was invented by Linus one evening, when he, Chris, and Brian were standing at the top of the stairs to the private bar, looking down at the scene downstairs.

"You know, since the refurb, there's been a whole bunch of young people here almost all the time," Linus said happily. "Does my heart good to see. And my poor sorry prostate-less dick, too."

"They've kind of taken up residence." Chris craned his neck to look around. "They remind me of the the stray cats that wander into your place sometime."

By _stray cats _Brian knew that Chris didn't mean actual cats; he was referring to winsome young men, often in need of sanctuary, that Linus was partial to homing. Raul bore them with a patient good humor, obviously knowing their stay was temporary, and they would soon move on.

"Not very stray, these cats," Linus objected. "And hardly cats. So young, some of them, more like kittens."

Chris snorted in amusement. "They've all been carded."

"Cute as a kitten, that one there, can't be older than twenty-one." Linus nodded downwards.

And the name stuck.

* * *

Wilson drummed his fingers on the table. "This workload reduction isn't necessarily a good thing."

"Some people get depressed when they give up work," House stated, and Brian wondered if he spoke from personal experience. House carried on, "You hear about them all the time; retire, lose their reason to live, and end up in a coffin within a year. Chris isn't retired, but he hasn't really got the stake in his work he used to have. He can't take the credit for the success of the refurb; it's all slipping away from him."

"And one thing about Chris's sex life is that it's very closely bound up with his work life." Wilson bunched his bushy eyebrows together as he thought.

House looked pained, and Brian frowned, not understanding.

"I mean, he always used his position and status at the club as a point of pride. At least, he used to, when I knew him, years ago." Wilson looked to Brian. "Buy a drink for anyone he was interested in, invite them to the upstairs private bar, draw them into his office--"

"--bang 'em on the couch." House grimaced.

"He still does that," Brian confirmed, remembering how Chris had drawn him in in exactly that way. "But not recently."

* * *

A few weekends after the re-opening, Brian was sitting chatting to Linus and Raul up in the private bar when Chris emerged from his office behind the bar, looked all around, and headed over to them.

"Linus," Chris said, his voice pained. "Why has my bar been overrun by Kittens?"

A few of the Kittens had indeed found their way upstairs to the private bar, which was invitation only; Brian hadn't thought anything of it.

"I invited them up. Well, I invited one, last night. Carlos, very beautiful eyes, such smooth skin." Linus gestured hazily around. "And he asked if some of his friends could come upstairs too, and frankly, Chris, it seemed like a small thing to ask since I hoped he might blow me at the time..."

Chris groaned.

"You can un-invite them anytime," Linus pointed out. Chris, as owner, always had the power of veto. "But I rather like having some young people running around the place. There's only four of them. I think the poker players could do with a bit of shaking up."

Brian looked across the room at the small group of Kittens, sitting on a couple of low black leather couches. Each had a beer bottle in hand, and the four of them were conversing merrily. There was no doubt about which one was Carlos. Brian would have picked him out of a lineup anywhere as Linus's type; easily the youngest of the four, perfect tawny skin, eyes so dark as to be black orbs shining in the bar half-light.

The one sitting next to Carlos was very blond, bleached almost white and dazzling in the dim lighting. Brian's gaze moved to the next one along; brown haired and dark eyed, but pale, bespectacled and demure. Chris's kind of thing, without a doubt.

Perhaps, Brian decided, the prospect of having a Kitten would boost Chris's sex drive.

"They're kinda cute," he ventured, and waited for Chris to notice the brown-haired one, expecting to see Chris's gray eyes darkening and glowing at the prospect of a spot of Edward-alike sex.

Instead Chris simply glanced across the room and shook his head.

"They can stay, so long as they don't cause any trouble," Chris warned Linus, and turned and went back to his office.

* * *

"If you want some more amateur psychiatry, there's his best friend recovering from prostate cancer surgery." House was crisp.

Brian hadn't mentioned Linus, but of course House and Wilson knew all about him; Wilson had been Linus's doctor for years.

"You mean, Linus's actual erectile dysfunction is making Chris behave in unconscious sympathy," Brian queried.

"In a nutshell." House sounded certain. "The power of suggestion."

Wilson grimaced and shifted a little in his chair.

"Wilson's looking alarmed now because he worries too much about doctor-patient confidentiality," House declared. "Whereas _I _know that I'm not telling you anything you don't know, when I say that Chris's prostate pal will have been struggling with his own sexual problems the last few months. In a major way. And he, if I recall correctly, is even more over-sexed than Chrissy boy."

"Linus doesn't hide anything," Brian said with a wry grin. "We've had every gory detail."

* * *

Three months after the surgery, Linus was proud to tell them that he'd had his first erection, assisted by an injection from a doctor. "You should have seen the size of the needle, it went _right _in and it hurt like nothing I have ever fucking experienced. No way could I have fucked anything, way too painful, but I can still get it up, thank heaven for that!"

Brian really, _really_, didn't want to think about such a needle, and from the look on Chris's face, he didn't either.

Linus rambled on happily for a while anyway, talking about pumps and pills, Viagra doses and the importance of having a supportive partner. "I could not have got through all this without my beloved Raul, I really could not."

Brian went off to find the beloved, and found him downstairs playing on a pinball machine.

"So Linus had a breakthrough?" Brian asked.

"Yes. It is a relief for him." Raul spun a ball deftly around the game. "He has motivation, with all these Kittens around. They like him. A lot of them want an older man, someone they can call _daddy_."

Brian grinned at that. Linus had always had a weakness for young men. Brian wasn't surprised to know that Kittens liked Linus. The age gap might be large, but Linus was personable and friendly, charming and generous, wealthy and powerful. He'd lost weight following his operation and looked better than he had in a long time.

"It is very good. It has made him realize that although some things will never be the same, other things don't have to change at all," Raul continued, with a big smile, and Brian was glad.

Later that evening, Brian overheard Linus declare to a bar full of Kittens, "You know, it's very important after prostate surgery to keep stimulating the penis. It stretches the tissues and discourages scar tissue formation. So, who's up for helping me stimulate it?"

There were takers.

* * *

So the removal of Linus's prostate had certainly not removed his libido, Brian reflected wryly. The irony that it had affected Chris's instead was kind of difficult to appreciate right now. "So, what do I do?"

"I can recommend a therapist," House offered.

Brian and Wilson both shook their heads simultaneously. Brian knew Chris had never seen a shrink in his whole life, not even when he'd lost Edward.

"You should talk to him, Brian," Wilson suggested instead. "Tell him how you feel."

Brian grimaced at this. They were _guys, _after all. Neither of them were any good at talking about how they felt. Brian's instinct before any kind of confrontational discussion was to duck out, walk away, and hope the problem went away by itself.

"You should think of ways to jazz up your sex life," House contributed. "You've been together a while. Let's face it, the romance has probably waned."

"House!" Wilson said reprovingly. "Look, Brian--"

"What you need to do, Brian, is find a young, hot, man with brown hair and brown eyes, and dangle him in front of Chris," House interrupted, and tapped his cane on the floor for emphasis. "I guarantee a reaction in the pants department before you can say Viagra."

House shot a glare sideways at Wilson, who had raised his eyebrows, and added. "And I'm not volunteering Wilson for this."

Brian smothered a grin behind a hand.

"What I was going to suggest, Brian, is that Chris has always been one to...separate...sex from his personal relationships," Wilson returned, a little diffidently. "If you wanted to fulfill your, ah, _needs _elsewhere, and talked to him about it, I imagine he would have no objection."

It was Wilson's turn to shoot a glance at House, and he added with a touch of humor, "And I'm not volunteering House for that, either."

* * *

Brian returned from Princeton berating himself for his trip to the hospital, wondering just why he had done it. He had a sneaking suspicion it had been so he could see House again. Stupid fucking waste of time that was. And he'd given up the Mississippi Mud Pie for it...

Remembering that he and Chris had agreed to watch the game on the big screen TV in the downstairs bar that evening, he drove straight to the club rather than home, only to find he was too early and Chris wasn't there yet.

He settled down at the bar to wait with a Scotch on the rocks and a newspaper, when a pair of Kittens appeared next to him. Brian recognized them as two of the ones with access to the private bar; the bleached white-blond one and the demure dark-haired one.

"Two Buds, please," the blond said to the bartender, then looked sideways at Brian. "And could I get this gorgeous piece of ass another of whatever he's having."

Brian felt himself start to blush behind his beard. He hunched a little in his seat, hiding behind his spectacles.

"Not necessary, this gentleman drinks on the house," the bartender said, replenishing Brian's drink anyway. It had been a long time since Brian had paid for a drink at the club, not since Chris had pulled him into his life.

"Ah, we've seen you upstairs." The blond Kitten batted an eyelid and nodded in understanding, as he paid for the two bottles of Bud.

Brian supposed he shouldn't be surprised to hear that the Kittens discussed the men they'd seen around the private bar. He felt flattered that they'd noticed him, though; he tended to assume his own invisibility, compared to alpha male Chris, the flamboyant Linus, and the beautiful Raul.

"Yeah," he said, his voice gruff with shyness.

"You're with the owner, right?" Dark-Haired Kitten chimed in. "The fair guy, with the gray eyes? We don't know his name--"

"Chris," Brian confirmed, and noticed both Kittens went a little doe-eyed at learning Chris's name. He wasn't surprised. Chris was a few years younger than Linus, strong and handsome, self-confident with the cool assurance that came with authority.

And at the end of the day, Brian realized wryly, both House's advice and Wilson's suggestion were good. Dangle a hot young man in front of Chris and/or go get fucked elsewhere. The club was full of the former, and hence the capacity for the latter.

"There he is, look, in the leathers!" Blond Kitten said suddenly, and nudged his friend with a sharp elbow. Dark-Haired Kitten turned to look, blushing a little too.

Brian's flight instinct kicked in, and he slid off the bar stool. "I have to go. I''ll see you around--" He practically fled across the room towards Chris, who was standing near the front entrance, chatting to the doorman. Chris, in his full biking leathers, jacket, pants and boots, looked effortlessly hot.

"Hey," Chris greeted him with a smile, peering over Brian's shoulder to see where he'd come from. "You seem a bit...flustered. Been talking to Kittens?"

"Hey," Brian muttered. "Yeah, kind of."

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, and moved away from the doorman, drawing Brian with him.

"Brian," Chris said gently. "I'm getting the feeling you've got a thing for one of the Kittens. The blond one, right?--your kind of thing..."

Brian was speechless. He _did _go for blonds, it was true--Chris was fair, Ethan even more so--but he hadn't thought of it as a preference, particularly.

"You know if you want to go have a good time with a Kitten, then you should go right ahead," Chris carried on, looking a little perplexed.

Brian threw up his hands. "I don't want to have a good time with a Kitten! I mean, I might, but I want _you _to have a good time with a Kitten! Chris, you've been so... out of sorts recently. I thought--I thought it might pep you up a bit..."

"You were looking for a Kitten for _me_?" Amusement entered Chris's voice.

"Well, you'd usually notice," Brian said desperately. "The dark haired one, right? Isn't he your type?"

"You're my type," Chris protested automatically, and then his eye skated back across the room in the direction of the Kittens. "Although he is very cute."

And suddenly it was back. That predatory gleam in Chris's eye that Brian had missed was back!

Chris hooked an arm around Brian's waist and pulled him close.

"Tonight," Chris said firmly into Brian's ear. "We are going straight home, alone, and I am going to fuck you into the mattress. Tomorrow, we come back, and we hook ourselves a Kitten or two. Maybe one blond, one dark. Sound good?"

"It sounds perfect," Brian said sincerely.

END

**

* * *

A/N**: A Chris/Brian story will be following this shortly; Chris decides to retire, doesn't find it easy, and Brian bears the brunt. No House/Wilson though.


	2. Chapter 2: Lost

**Title: **Lost and Found: Part 1/2  
**Author: **hwshipper  
**Pairing: **Chris/Brian. Reference to past Chris/Edward and Brian/Ethan.  
**Beta**: srsly_yes has my eternal gratitude

**Summary**: Chris reaches a turning point in his life, and doesn't find it easy. Nor does Brian. Follows The Kittens.

**Lost and Found: Part 1/2**

"Hey, look at this." Brian waved a piece of stiff card in front of Chris's nose. "Invitation to the opening of Ethan's new restaurant next week."

"Great." Chris slumped into a kitchen chair and glanced at the card. Lack of enthusiasm was palpable in his slouch and narrow eyes. "You don't want to go, do you?"

"No." Not really. "Just... curious." Brian looked down at the card. It was heavy and beautifully engraved in an art deco typeface. "Looks like a classy joint."

"Spent his divorce settlement wisely, has he?" Chris reached for the coffeepot.

Brian shrugged, and remarked, "The restaurant's called _Ethan's_."

Chris snorted. "He might have well just called it _Ego _and have done with it."

Brian liked that. But he decided it was best not to talk about Ethan any more; Chris had high blood pressure as it was. And thinking of that... "When's your doctor's appointment?"

"Ten." Chris sipped coffee. "Are you at the old folk's community center today?"

Brian nodded. It was a Monday, his usual day to go sit at a table for a few hours and offer legal advice in return for home-baked cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies. "Old Mrs Hepplewaite's promised me an update on her landlord situation."

Chris grinned a little. "I really would rather be at the doctors."

Brian tucked paperwork back into the file, smiling to himself as old Mrs Hepplewaite hobbled away.

* * *

A familiar figure dropped into the chair opposite, plucked a cookie from the plate on the table, and said, "Hey. I hear you give free legal advice to seniors?"

Brian jumped in surprise; Chris rarely visited him here. Recovering quickly, he scolded, "You haven't brought cake. And you're not a senior."

"I may not be old enough. But I _am _about to retire." Chris sounded sheepish. "Does that count?"

"You're--really?" Brian had been suggesting that Chris retire for ages, on and off. But Chris, a workaholic all his life, had resisted. "How was the physical?"

"Blood pressure no better," Chris admitted.

Brian wrinkled his brow.

"Doctor told me I have to slow down, take things easier." Chris sighed. "I think it's time to stop working so much. Linus should be pleased, I can start playing golf a bit more."

Linus, in his late fifties and recovering from prostate cancer for the third time, had made the decision to retire from work a year ago following surgery. He'd divested himself of all his business interests, one by one, and now spent long days playing golf with Ziggy and playing other kinds of ball games with Raul.

"You can start playing with _me_ a bit more," Brian joked.

A corner of Chris's mouth turned up. "Yeah, you middle-aged retiree slacker."

Brian had stopped full-time work a few years ago, when he'd walked away from his high-flying career at The Firm aged thirty-five. He was still a member of the New York and New Jersey bar associations, though, working individual cases when they interested him. He kept up various other small jobs for fun, fulfillment and pin money, like helping out in the Carys' mom and pop shop.

But Chris, only a few years younger than Linus, still very much worked full time overseeing his string of restaurants and bars. He'd collapsed in an unfortunate drug-related incident the year before, the same time as Linus's prostate surgery, and had been trying to reduce his stress level ever since. Apparently to no avail.

"It's the right thing to do." Brian was gentle, could see Chris was ill-at-ease with the decision. "You can afford it."

They'd sat down and done the math recently. Chris was comfortably off and could readily afford to stop working. Brian had an income from his trust fund and paid for half of everything. They owned their house outright. They liked frequent nice long vacations, and they each had their indulgences; Chris had his single malts and his Harley-Davidson, Brian had a toddler nephew who had learned early in life that Uncle Brian was a pushover compared to Mom. But generally speaking, neither of them was particularly extravagant.

"I know. I just... don't know if I can keep busy enough." Chris fidgeted in his chair. "I thought I'd wind down gradually. Over the next year or so. And I thought I'd sell everything except the steakhouse. That wouldn't be much trouble to run on its own, almost like a hobby."

Brian nodded. He knew the steakhouse was the first place Chris had bought, and had great sentimental value. Then a thought struck him. "Sell _everything _else? You mean... you'd sell the club!"

Chris grimaced, and nodded. "Yeah. Ferdinand said before that he'd buy me out if I was ever willing to sell."

"Wow." This was... major.

* * *

Brian hadn't appreciated just how major it was.

Chris had owned the club for almost his entire working life. It had undergone various renovations, changes of name, and changes of management over that time. But for Chris it had been a constant in his life. He had done _everything_ there. He'd tended bar, cleaned floors, painted walls, repaired leaky faucets and broken chairs; overseen auditors, coped with health and safety inspections; stopped fights, smoothed ruffled feathers, ushered away drug dealers. Many significant personal relationships had started there; friends, acquaintances, one-night stands, long-term lovers, and Brian himself. And Chris's office was on the first floor, from which he ran not only the club but most aspects of his life, business and personal.

He divested himself of other businesses first, and it was quicker than either of them expected. Within six months Chris sold off several other restaurants, diners and bars, leaving just the steakhouse and the club.

Meanwhile, the club manager, Ferdinand, found a business partner and managed to scrape up the cash price that Chris wanted. A fair amount, not unmanageable. And now the sale was signed and sealed, with a completion date in three week's time.

Leaving Chris three weeks to clear his office.

"Can I help?" Brian asked on day one, wandering around the room as Chris opened the first drawer and stared helplessly at the jammed contents within.

"If only. No, I've gotta do this." Chris reached inside and pulled out a fat wad of paperwork. "God. I should have chucked this years ago. Can you find me the shredder?..."

Brian found the shredder, then lingered and watched for a bit. As Chris delved back further, he exclaimed over places and events from many years before, way before Brian had met him. He read letters and chuckled over pictures before consigning them to shred or a keep pile. Brian soon got bored. He wandered out to the bar for a bit, then went home.

At the end of day one, Chris didn't make it home, calling Brian late to say he would sleep on the couch in his office. "I've managed exactly one filing cabinet drawer. It's gonna take forever."

"Can I help?" Brian repeated, and heard a heavy sigh down the line.

"No. I can tell I'm not going to be very good company for the next three weeks. Just bear with me."

Brian put the phone down, and ruminated on when he'd cleared out his old New York apartment a little while ago, before selling it to Ethan. Nothing like as big a task, of course, but he'd managed to accumulate a lot of legal papers during his life at the firm, and there'd been all his law school stuff... and mementos, of Mom and Dad, and the five years he'd lived with Ethan....

* * *

By the end of the first week, Chris had come home for only three nights out of seven, and was spending almost every waking minute at the office. He had sped up, clearing two filing cabinets. Brian visited periodically to find that as well as creating multiple bags of shredding, Chris had filled a fat box full of things he wanted to keep and bring home.

"We're going to have to build another room to put all your stuff in," Brian protested.

"It can go in the garage for now, I'll sort it out later," Chris declared. "I'll have the rest of my life to do that, right?"

"And lots of other things." Brian didn't like the idea that Chris would have nothing to do after he stopped working. Suddenly Brian noticed a small baggie sitting on the corner of Chris's desk. "What's that?"

"Coke. Found it in a drawer." Chris poked at it with a finger. "Must've been there for years. Does coke go off, do you think?--Don't worry," he added hastily. "I haven't touched it. I'm not actually suicidal, you know. I was going to give it to Ferdinand, I probably got him to buy it for me in the first place."

But Brian was having awful flashbacks to Chris's collapse the previous year, and knew he couldn't bear to have it around a moment later. He tweaked it off Chris's desk, holding it between two fingers, marched out of the room and flushed it down the nearest toilet.

Brian headed home alone that evening, moody and glum. He thought back to his apartment clear out again, remembered old letters, old photographs he'd found. Himself and Ethan in their happier days.

When he got home he dug out the old shoebox of miscellaneous life detritus which he'd stowed in the back of a closet, and had a look at the photos. Gosh, Ethan had been fucking good-looking. (Still was, of course). It was kind of nice to be reminded of that; sometimes Brian couldn't remember why he'd put up with all of Ethan's crap for so long. The guy had had his good points.

Brian wondered how the new restaurant was doing. He hoped it was successful. Brian tucked the shoebox away again, and when he fell asleep that night he dreamed about a charming blond chef flipping pancakes on a griddle.

* * *

By the end of the second week, Brian was utterly fed up and counting the days until this was all over and he could have his boyfriend back.

Chris was hardly coming home at all. When he needed a break, he went out to the bar and hung out with the Kittens. The Kittens were a band of young men who had recently discovered the club and adopted it as their second home; Linus was usually the center of their attention, but he and Raul were away on an extended vacation with Julio down in Florida. The Kittens uniformly adored Chris, and spent the whole time competing for his affection.

Brian had no objection to the Kittens _per se_. In the past he had encouraged Chris to have fun with them, and there was a bold flirtatious blond Kitten who Brian had a weakness for himself. But he found it aggravating that Chris was choosing to bury himself in their midst for relief and oblivion at the moment. One dark-haired Kitten had more or less moved into Chris's office and spent the time lolling on the couch, pouting and waiting for Chris to get fed up with the paperwork.

Ferdinand materialized at Brian's elbow in the upstairs bar one night to ask, "Did you see Chris? He just left."

"Left?" Brian said blankly.

"Came out of his office, down the stairs, straight out the door, didn't say a word," Ferdinand explained. "The doorman said it looked like he was crying."

Holy crap. Chris _never _cried. Brian couldn't think of a single occasion he'd seen Chris cry.

There was no point going after him, if he didn't want to be caught. He'd be miles away on the Harley within minutes. Brian hesitated for a second, then headed behind the bar to Chris's office.

He tried Chris's office door; it was locked. Brian ummed and ah'd for a minute, then slid down the corridor to Ferdinand's office. There was a key cabinet on the wall with an unmarked spare key to Chris's office; only for use in dire emergencies. Brian took it without hesitation.

Inside Chris's office, Brian found a file box sitting open on the desk. Brian flicked through contents; some marketing material for the club, posters and flyers with pictures and designs that might have been cutting edge twenty years ago but looked very dated now. There were drafts and proofs and correspondence with the designer. And... a chunk of photographs.

Glossy six by fours, from the age before digital; candid shots around the club showing people dancing, drinking, laughing. A few on top of the pile had been used in the marketing material. Brian leafed further down, smiling at hairstyles and clothes, and then stopped dead.

In the exact place Chris had, Brian assumed.

The photograph was of Chris and a younger man, shorter, with spectacles and dark hair flopping down over his forehead. _Edward_. The two of them were standing at the downstairs bar in a half embrace, Chris with an arm around Edward's waist, Edward with a hand on Chris's chest, both smiling broadly at each other, apparently heedless of the camera.

Brian sat slowly down at Chris's desk. He'd have bet anything that Chris hadn't given that photo so much as a passing thought from when he'd closed that file box all those years ago, until the minute he'd opened it that evening. It felt like a hammer blow to Brian, who'd never even met Edward... he couldn't imagine what Chris must have felt like.

He wondered when Chris might come home. Brian thought this might be a forty-eight hour disappearance, maybe a little shorter given the time sensitive nature of the job in hand.

* * *

Chris was back the next day, although he went to the club rather than home. Brian got the call from Ferdinand, and drove in, semi-indignant that Chris hadn't called him. All indignation vanished at the sight of Chris, wearing sunglasses at his desk, shoulders bowed and lines creasing his forehead.

"Chris, you look...like shit."

"Thanks." Chris's voice was listless. Brian noticed the file box was gone. He could see most of the contents on the _shred_ pile, and wondered where the photograph was.

"This is just so fucking hard." Chris's voice actually trembled, and Brian's heart bled for him. "It's all so hard. I didn't know how much crap I had... so many things..."

Suddenly Brian realized it wasn't just the one photograph that was causing the problem. Chris was knee-deep in the past, with reminders and mementos of his history with Edward left, right and center. Brian couldn't even begin to guess the resonances Chris was experiencing.

"And what have I got to show for it, anyway?" Chris went on. Brian frowned, not understanding. "I've worked so fucking hard, all my life, and now it's over. I sell the place, and that's that, I might as well have never been here."

And then Brian realized it wasn't just Edward that Chris was mourning. It was his whole working life, vanishing away before his eyes.

"You made a lot of people happy," Brian protested, fumbling towards an argument. "You ran places where people could have fun, enjoy themselves--"

"And that's it? Who _am_ I, if I'm not working?" Chris demanded. He pushed the sunglasses up onto his forehead, revealing eyes shot through with red veins. He looked around the office and passed a hand over his face. "I can't do any more of this now, let's go get a drink."

They headed out of the office, Brian trying to think what to say. Nothing remotely comforting sprang to mind. Instead he noticed that Chris's breath was already tinged with whisky, and muttered, "You shouldn't drink any more."

"Christ almighty," Chris said in exasperation as they came out into the bar. "I've had two Scotches! In the old days I could have that before breakfast and not even notice!"

Brian knew Chris was exaggerating, but the phrase "in the old days" rang gloomily in the air.

There were two Kittens standing at the bar; Brian recognized one of them, Carlos, a favorite of Linus for his perfect, clear skin and exotic accent. The other one was familiar too, although Brian didn't know his name. Very youthful, with light brown hair and a cute tilt to his nose. He was cupping a hand to light a cigarette.

Chris's hand twitched as they approached, and then Brian spied a familiar predatory gleam in those bloodshot gray eyes.

"Can you spare one of those?" Chris asked the cigarette-smoking Kitten.

The Kitten looked up, surprised, then seeing who it was, hastened to offer the packet to Chris. Chris tweaked out a cigarette, and the Kitten leaned forward to light it for him.

Brian watched Chris breathe out a lungful of smoke, and the desire to avoid confrontation, to duck out and leave right _now, _was powerful. With Chris's well-being in mind, and with the Kitten smiling and batting eyelashes, Brian fought the impulse and spoke more loudly than was necessary. "Chris, your blood pressure."

Chris glared and took another long drag. "One fucking cigarette."

"One is too many." Brian hated being this voice of reason. "The doctor said blood pressure goes up literally with one cigarette--"

"For God's sake, stop badgering me, you're reminding me of Wilson," Chris snapped.

Brian inwardly winced, knowing Chris had mentioned his ex deliberately to wound. But he persisted. "He should know. And anyway, you gave up, years ago, when Linus got diagnosed...with cancer...."

That was emotional blackmail and Brian knew it. Chris turned white and his hand started to shake; the cigarette-smoking Kitten looked uncomfortable, and Carlos's large dark eyes widened to huge.

"It wasn't lung cancer," Chris barked, but clearly the cigarette had turned to ash in his mouth in more ways than none. He grabbed an ashtray and stubbed it out viciously. "There, happy? I tell you, it's a fucking good thing you flushed away that coke or I'd be doing a line of that instead right now."

Something snapped inside Brian's brain; a fuse blew, wiring short-circuited, and his flight instinct kicked in, big-time. He could _not _take any more of this shit. He had to go, now, or he would say something he regretted--

He was outside walking towards his car before he was even aware of making the decision.

TBC

A/N: Second part is all written & will be posted soon.


	3. Chapter 3: Found

**Title: **Lost and Found: Part 2/2  
**Author: **hwshipper  
**Pairing: **Chris/Brian, Brian/OMC. Reference to past Brian/Ethan.  
**Beta**: run out of superlatives for srsly_yes

**Summary**: Brian's decided he needs to get away from Chris for a while.

**Lost and Found: Part 2/2**

Brian got home, threw a few overnight things in a backpack, got back in his car, and called Chris's cell. He was pleased to find it roll over to voicemail and left a deliberately short message, in as neutral a tone as he could manage. "Chris, I'm going away for a couple of days, maybe I'll go see Tina and Tim. See ya'."

He arrived at his sister's house on the outskirts of Princeton well past midnight only to find nobody in when he knocked. Brian had forgotten, Tina was away in Europe on her annual fall vacation. She'd asked him to keep an eye on the place. Whoops, oh well, at least that meant she'd hidden a key for him in the potted plant by the door.

Inside, the bathroom doorknob came off in his hand so he spent a while screwing it on. He managed to get it to stay, although he rather thought it hadn't drooped at such an angle before.

He wandered around the house for a while, remembering the purpose of her trip. His nephew tiny Tim had been exposed to other children's familes for the first time after starting kindergarten recently, and come home asking awkward questions about who his father was. (Brian was awaiting the day that Tim discovered not everyone had two cohabiting uncles). Unable to give a specific answer, Tina had decided to revisit the vineyard owner from Italy and the ski instructor from Sweden, who were the prime candidates. She was apparently sure that once the right man was in the same room at the same time as Tim she would just _know_.

"Or you could wait for Tim to grow up and see if he has a penchant for wine or winter sports," Brian had suggested whimsically.

He had also tried to suggest that whichever man it was might not be very pleased to learn he had a five-year-old son, but Tina had brushed that off, saying it wasn't like she was asking for money, or time, or anything actually; she just wanted to know.

Wondering if her theory had actually worked, and thinking she would have had time to visit both men by now, he switched her computer on and sent her a short email.

_So was it wine or winter sport? The house is fine BTW and I fixed the bathroom doorknob.  
_  
The next day he woke to find a reply:

_Tim now knows his dad is a ski instructor in Chamonix, who is charmed to find out he has a son. We also spent some time among the vines, where I figured my man there would be an ace father too,so I did my best to get Tim a brother or sister, we'll see. Love Tina. P.S. Thanks for house-sitting but the bathroom doorknob wasn't broken!_

Brian barely noticed the P.S., as his brain blew a gasket at the prospect of having another nephew or a niece.

He spent the morning channel hopping and web surfing, between bouts of snoozing and wondering what to do. He could just stay at Tina's house and wait for Chris's crisis to pass. But he felt lonely and vaguely dissatisfied.

He remembered Ethan's restaurant. It would have been open a good six months by now. Brian idly googled _ethans restaurant new york,_ and found as well as a glossy official webpage, a number of restaurant reviews. He read with increasing interest; not bad. Not bad at all. Brian recalled Ethan both fuming and celebrating over reviews in the past; critics could be so harsh. But the tone here was generally positive.

He wanted to go see what it was like, but couldn't see himself persuading Chris to visit anytime soon. Perhaps now would be a good time.

* * *

He drove into the city the following afternoon, left his car in a garage, and spent a while walking Manhattan streets, pausing for coffee once or twice. He wandered around Central Park and stopped to watch a baseball game. He'd lived and worked in New York for years, knew it well, had once played baseball there himself devoutly every weekend... but he felt a certain detachment from it all now.

In the early evening he started walking with more purpose, until he arrived at his destination; a smart hotel, much more upscale than anywhere he would normally stay. He looked up to see a smart chrome and black sign off to the side; _Ethan's_.

The restaurant was part of the hotel, but also had its own entrance door from the street. Brian walked slowly up the steps, taking in white marble and purple velvet. A maitre d' in tux tails stood at the door, and Brian promptly felt under-dressed in his casual shirt and pants. Maybe they wouldn't let him in without a jacket and tie.

"Tables are all full for dinner, but you can sit at the bar, we can serve food there too," the maitre d' offered, and Brian figured why not.

Inside, the restaurant was all black lacquer walls with shining chrome fittings and gleaming wood surfaces. Diners looked smart but not overly so; men in suits, women in skirts and blouses. An after work destination for office workers paid above average, Brian decided.

He ordered a premium export beer, sat back, sipped, and waited for something to happen.

* * *

Five minutes later, a familiar figure slid onto the bar stool next to him.

"Fuck me, it's Brian!"

Brian looked up, and even though he knew what he would see, he still caught his breath. His tall, handsome ex looked better than ever. His blond locks were short and slicked back under a small chef's hat, his eyes gleamed with health, vigor, and a hint of suggestion. A white apron was spotless and worn over a smart suit; worn to signify his chef status rather than to get dirty in the kitchen, Brian deduced.

"You look great, Ethan," Brian admitted.

Ethan beamed. "You're looking tired, Brian. What brings you here?"

"Curiosity. It's a great place, Ethan, congratulations." Brian was gruff. "Looks like business is good?"

"It cost me a small fortune to start up, Brian, I can tell you. But business is excellent, thank you," Ethan gushed. He made a show of looking all around. "Is Chris with you?"

"No."

Ethan waited, and when Brian didn't elaborate, said, "Oh?," in a voice thick with suggestion.

"He's probably screwing a twenty-one year old at the moment," Brian heard himself say, and was astounded at the note of bitterness in his voice.

Ethan reached across and touched Brian's hand gently. "Let me treat you to dinner here. I swear you'll never get a better meal in your life."

* * *

Dinner was indeed possibly the best meal Brian ever had in his life.

The maitre d' had been quite right that all tables were taken--except the little table where they were now seated, tucked up and out of the way, near the kitchen but not obtrusively so. "My table," Ethan explained. "I can see everything from here."

Brian let Ethan order for him, figuring the master chef would know what was good. Ethan had a few words with the waiter, then told Brian, "Don't go anywhere," and vanished into the kitchen to issue instructions.

Focaccia bread served with a dish of exquisite extra virgin olive oil arrived soon afterward. Ethan reappeared bearing a bottle of ruby red wine, and sat back down with Brian.

The food was uniformly delicious and the wine as smooth as silk. Ethan didn't eat anything himself except to taste dishes as they arrived, and one by one they passed muster from the signature chef. There was risotto, rich and creamy, with a variety of different cheeses that exploded in the mouth; butternut squash soup so thick that Brian could almost stand the spoon up in it; barely sauteed zucchini, which was fresh enough to have been newly picked; a perfectly rare filet mignon.

"I don't remember seeing any of this on the menu," Brian remarked at one point.

"Anyone can order from the menu," Ethan gave a dismissive shrug. "Not everyone can order _off_-menu, knowing everything in the kitchen and what's at its absolute best. There are always ingredients for specials in limited supply, we only offer them to our best patrons."

Brian put his knife and fork down after the last mouthful and said, "That was awesome, Ethan. Really awesome."

"You haven't seen dessert yet," Ethan said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and at that moment Brian spotted a small cart being wheeled in their direction. He waited for it to get closer, then leaned forward to peer at what was on it. A small burner...

"Banana flambé!" Brian realized with a jolt.

"Absolutely," Ethan said, getting to his feet. The chef pushing the cart backed away, and Ethan took his place and turned on the flame.

Brian sat back in a daze, and watched Ethan cook and serve flambé like he'd been born to it. Neither of them needed to mention the significance of the choice; it had been how they'd first met, all those years ago. Ethan flambé-ing, out in the bistro, and pausing to chat to the shy admiring Brian at the bar.

"Divine," was all Brian could say, as piping hot sweetness and cinnamon melted in his mouth, and alcohol trickled down his throat.

"I knew you'd like it." Ethan cast a wickedly self-satisfied smile in Brian's direction. "I don't cook so much in the kitchen anymore, but I do this kind of thing out here quite a lot."

"You always did like to show off," Brian remembered.

"Some things don't change." Ethan let out a little sigh. "Why did we break up again?"

It was rhetorical, but Brian felt constrained to remind him. "You cheated on me and dumped me on the day I left my job! You'd met Chuck the Fuck, remember?"

Ethan shuddered delicately. "What _was _I thinking?"

"You got me." Brian spoke dryly. He put the spoon down on the plate, sorry to have finished the meal.  
"Let me show you something," Ethan said with sudden enthusiasm. He stood up and held out a hand. Brian hesitated but took it, and found himself led out of the restaurant into the hotel. They got in an elevator to the top floor, some thirty stories up.

Above that, there was another small glass elevator with a spiral staircase winding around it; they rode it up another floor to the roof. They stepped outside into a small garden with perfectly manicured shrubs in containers, and a tiny fountain tinkling away.

Brian breathed cool fresh air and stared around at the starry night, riveted. "Ethan, it's almost like you're trying to seduce me. Or something."

"Honestly, Brian, you can be so _dense _sometimes," Ethan said, with a faint air of exasperation. And then he stepped forward and kissed Brian on the mouth.

* * *

For about thirty seconds it was awesome. Lips and tongue and teeth all oh-so-familiar and ooh, yeah, instant hard-on, _fantastic_--

And then suddenly it was all wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Panic rose in Brian's throat; he wrenched himself away and fled blindly down the spiral steps, around and around, his hand sliding down the handrail, feet stomping stairs.

The thing was, the _thing _was, the thing _was_, he could get laid in every gay bar in New York and he knew Chris wouldn't turn a hair. But if he so much as mentioned Ethan--Chris would go ballistic.

At the bottom of the staircase he paused, out of breath and not knowing what to do; and then the glass elevator door opened, and out stepped Ethan.

To Brian's relief, Ethan's face glinted with amusement rather than annoyance. "You turn up out of the blue, mutter something about Chris screwing twenty-one year olds, let me wine you and dine you." His tone was comical. "And then you're not even going to put out!"

"Just call me cocktease," Brian muttered.

Ethan laughed at that. "Brian, I had forgotten how adorably eccentric you were."

"I should go find a hotel room." Suddenly Brian felt tired. "Maybe here, if it's not too absurdly expensive."

"You don't have anywhere to stay?" Ethan raised a surprised eyebrow. "Then hey, come crash at my place. It's very comfy. As you know."

It had been Brian's apartment for years. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"You can take the guest room. I promise I won't come and ravish you in the middle of the night." Ethan winked.

* * *

It was fun to be in his old apartment again. Ethan had redecorated, but in a way Brian might have done himself; neutrally tasteful for the most part, with occasional splashes of color and glamor. Ethan bustled around merrily, finding pillows and blankets for the spare room, Brian wandered around admiring pictures and furniture, and examining the CD collection.

He went to use the bathroom, which hadn't changed from when Brian had lived there at all, except there was a new fancy mirror with a frosted glass border, new towels and... new toothbrushes. Plural. Two toothbrushes.

Brian stared at them for a moment, then his eye fell on other successive multiple items. What the fuck--someone else was living here!

Or at least spending enough time here to leave a set of toiletries lying around. He headed out of the bathroom as a key turned in the front door lock. Someone who had a key, too!

The door opened and in came a dark-haired smiling man who Brian had never seen before.

"Jules!" Ethan fairly leaped out of the guest room, and caught the newcomer in a warm embrace. They kissed, and Brian figured this must be the owner of the second toothbrush.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Ethan had never been alone, always bounced from relationship to relationship, usually seeing the new squeeze before he'd quite gotten round to breaking up with the previous one. Brian should have guessed.

"Brian, meet _Julien_," Ethan said, rather proudly, embuing the name with a certain Gallic flair. "Jules, this is my old friend Brian!"

"'Ello, Brian," Julien drawled, and Brian discerned an accent; French, he thought. "So pleased to meet you. Ethan has talked about you so much."

_Which is more than I can say_. "Uh, pleased to meet you too," Brian stumbled over the words.

Julien excused himself and vanished into the bathroom.

Brian hastened to corner Ethan. "Ethan, you never told me you had a boyfriend!"

"You never asked," Ethan pointed out with impeccable logic.

Brian was rendered speechless for a few seconds. "But Ethan, if I had…fallen for your charms tonight, what would you have done? Where would we have gone?"

Ethan looked surprised. "I'd have suggested we get a room at the hotel."

Brian closed his eyes, counted to ten, then asked, "And _when _might you have gotten round to telling me that you had a boyfriend?"

"Oh, the morning after, probably," Ethan said carelessly. "Why complicate things?"

Why indeed! Such an Ethan response! And suddenly Brian was glad. Glad that he hadn't succumbed to temptation and slept with Ethan. Glad that he had Chris—who might fall into bed with other men occasionally, but would never lie about it.

* * *

They sat in the living room and chatted sociably into the night over a bottle of cognac. Brian discovered that Julien was also a chef in a hotel restaurant, although he didn't run it; he was a line chef. And he wasn't French, he was Swiss, but he did come from the French region of Switzerland, to the west of the country. They had met when Ethan had sought expert advice while trying to perfect his fondue recipes.

"Nobody does fondue like the Swiss," Ethan proclaimed. "Cheese, chocolate, they can melt anything."

"Hearts," Julien deadpanned, and Ethan smiled at him, and Brian thought there might be real affection there. Of course, Ethan always believed he was in love with whoever he was going out with....maybe it was always true, while it lasted.

The cognac went to Brian's head and made him sleepy. He eventually dozed off, and when he woke up a little later he found Ethan and Julien on the couch opposite, smooching. The two of them were lying along its full length, Ethan on top, Julien beneath. They were both fully clothed, but Ethan had a hand up inside Julien's shirt and Julien possibly had a hand inside Ethan's pants. Brian couldn't quite make it out.

He squinted and moved his head, and yes, Julien definitely had a hand inside Ethan's pants; Brian could see Julien's fingers splaying along Ethan's generously endowed crotch...

"We 'ave a spectator," Julien muttered, and Ethan turned his head to look at Brian.

Brian staggered to his feet. "Don't mind me. I'm going to bed, goodnight,"

"Goodnight," Julien and Ethan echoed, and Brian lurched out to the guest bedroom and fell down on the bed. He thought he might fall asleep almost immediately, but he'd been careless enough to not quite shut the door completely, and a low moan from the living room stalled his slide into oblivion. Moans became gasps and sighs and _oh God oh God mon Dieu, yes there, now, oui, yes, yes yes...._

Brian stuck his own hand in his pants and brought himself off in silent sympathetic synchronization.

* * *

Brian didn't leave the next day because there didn't seem to be any reason to. Ethan seemed delighted to have him around, cooked him breakfast, urged him to stay as long as he wanted, fluttering long eyelashes and giving Brian small nudges occasionally. Brian was careful not to respond to the flirting, but figured he might as well stay for a day or two. Julien didn't seem to mind.

It was kinda fun being back in his old apartment for a couple of days. Brian fell into a pattern; he slept in until noon, had long showers, watched a lot of DVDs, went to bed late.

He ate very well indeed. He had dinner at Ethan's again once, and at Julien's restaurant twice. He tried the fondue, both cheese and chocolate, and agreed solemnly with Ethan that nobody did fondue like the Swiss.

On Friday morning the world he'd left behind finally intruded when his cell rang over a leisurely brunch in a diner.

"Brian!" Linus's voice vibrated down the line. "Can you believe, Chris thought he could retire without anyone throwing him a party! Raul and I are on our way back to Jersey today. We'll be celebrating tomorrow night, Brian, at the club. We'll see you there."

"Um." Brian passed a hand over his eyes. "I....I'm in New York at the moment."

"Then I'm calling to tell you to get your ass back right now." Linus clearly knew something was afoot. "No ifs, no buts. I don't know why you're in New York, but I don't care, as long as you're back tomorrow night. This is _Chris _we're talking about."

Brian closed his eyes. "I know."

"Then I will see you tomorrow." Linus's tone brooked no argument.

Bran opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, as he would have been talking to a dial tone.

* * *

He was still wondering what to do when he went clubbing that evening with his hosts. It was after midnight when they set off; neither Ethan and Julien could leave until their kitchens closed.

"Tonight, we need to get Brian laid," Ethan declared as they strolled into a club, the three of them with arms linked, Ethan in the middle. Julien chuckled.

"Ethan, no," Brian protested, feeling his cheeks going pink behind his beard.

"Oh come on." Ethan was firm. "You deserve some fun! Especially with Chris off fucking twenty-one year olds."

Brian didn't like Ethan badmouthing Chris, but found himself tongue-tied as to how to object. "It's not as simple as that."

"It never is." Ethan was dismissive. "Hey, what about him over there? He's cute."

Brian resisted initial attempts to pair him off by Ethan, Julien, and a bunch of their friends, but as it turned out in the end, getting laid was on the agenda after all. And not difficult. He was ordering a round of drinks at the bar, when a tall man came to stand next to him.

"I've been admiring your pretty ass from across the room," he said.

Brian felt himself blush faintly, and turned to look at the man. He had streaky blond hair, rather like Ethan, and blue eyes almost as vibrant as House's. He was wearing black from head to foot, in the way Chris did sometimes; jeans, tight black T-shirt than showed off chunky biceps and abs. His hands, resting on the counter, were rough, reminding Brian of Raul's hands when he had been out working on a fishing boat. Brian mentally tagged him for some kind of manual laborer.

"Thanks," Brian muttered, handing over cash to the bartender.

"Cut to the chase," the man in black said. "I'm here looking for someone to fuck tonight, are you that man?"

Once upon a time this kind of thing had happened a lot. In the six month aftermath of his relationship with Ethan, Brian had attempted what House had termed his _long slow suicide by sluttishness. _He was long since over that, but the coarseness of the approach brought a rush of blood to his groin. "I think I am."

He went to give Ethan and Co. their drinks, letting Ethan's observations ("Brian, you dog! You've got a live one!") wash over him, then rejoined the man in black. They sat in a corner and chatted and fondled a bit through one drink, necked and groped through a second, and then they left the club through a back door.

They didn't get very far. The alleyway out back was dark and deserted. The man had Brian up against a wall almost immediately; kissing and running hands everywhere, then his fly was undone and rough fingertips grasped his cock.

Next thing the stranger dropped to his knees, took Brian's cock in his mouth almost all the way and stuck a finger up his ass at the same time. Brian almost came on the spot. He held out for a few minutes, stroking and tugging helplessly at feathery streaky blond locks, then jerked backwards before spurting over the man's shoulder.

"Fucking amazing," he gasped, clutching a fistful of the man's hair in one hand.

The stranger got to his feet, kissed Brian on the mouth and muttered, "Assfuck?"

He reached into a jeans pocket for a small square foil packet as he spoke. Brian nodded breathlessly, relieved, as he hadn't got a condom himself (he could have gone back into the club and asked Ethan for one, and how funny would Ethan have found _that_). The man undid his own fly, pulled out his cock which was large and hard and red already; snapped the condom on expertly, and murmured, "Turn around."

Brian faced the wall, resting his forehead against cool abrasive brick, heard the man spit, felt rough wet fingers probing briefly, and then _ow fuck ow_ long searing pain that made him jolt and graze his cheek against the wall. He gasped, on the verge of saying _stop_, but the pain was ebbing away fast and in its place was a growing sense of excitement, fullness, taking it in _all the way _now and turning the man behind him into a gibbering trembling thrusting hunk of muscle and sinew. Craggy hands grasped at his hips and shook as the stranger came, shooting hard and fast.

They stood for a moment, still linked, all heavy breath and sweat.

"Awesome," the guy said eventually, stepping backwards on still unsteady feet and reaching to strip off the condom.

"Yeah," Brian breathed back, zipping himself up, feeling the night chill for the first time.

And suddenly he longed for Chris to be there. Chris had always had a thing about watching, and there was nothing as good as finding him ready to take his turn.

* * *

Brian applied the handbrake and turned off the car engine. He flicked off the headlights, and enjoyed the sensation of being plunged into near-darkness. The window was open and he sat breathing the night air and listening to seagulls screeching for a minute. The sea smelled fresh and clean.

It had been fun being in the city for a while, good seeing Ethan again, but it was great to be back on the New Jersey coast. He'd left Ethan and Julien a gift to thank them for their hospitality that he knew both chefs would appreciate; a small jar of top quality saffron.

He licked his lips and tasted salt, and the sensation made him suddenly aware of the more earthy smells and sounds around him. Music was thudding loudly from the club, a short distance away along the beach; voices shouted and the scent of weed arced its way into Brian's nostrils.

Brian got out of the car and made his way along the beach, opting to scuff along in sand rather than take the path. As he approached the club, the lights and music intensified; he saw it was busy even for Saturday night. A small line of young men were waiting patiently to go in as the doorman carded them one by one.

"Hey," Brian murmured, sliding past the queue. The doorman nodded in recognition and Brian saw him reach for his walkie-talkie; Chris would know he was here in a few seconds.

The place was heaving. Brian was briefly amazed, then realized the immensely well-connected Linus would have been on the phone to more than just him. There were many familiar faces, the entire local gayborhood was there; and many unfamiliar faces too, blasts from Chris's past, Brian suspected.

And there was Chris, standing at top of the stairs to the private bar. He looked a little tired, but also every bit as irresistibly attractive as Brian had ever seen him; soft fair hair, firm thighs clad in black leather pants. Brian felt his heart thump against his ribs as Chris came down the stairs and met him at the bottom.

"Brian," Chris said, and threw both arms around him in a bear hug. They kissed, and Brian felt himself start to melt; it was long and sweet and incredibly tender.

"Come upstairs," Chris said. "Everyone's here; Linus and Raul came back from South Beach, they brought Julio with them, and Bob, too. And there's Ziggy, Brandon and Tony, Jeremy, Ravi, Jai Ray..." Chris's voice trailed away as they started up the stairs. Then he asked, "Linus said you were in New York?"

"I hung out with Ethan for a few days," Brian explained.

Chris closed his eyes for a second, then said, "You don't need to tell me, I don't want to know."

"Nothing happened," Brian was swift to explain. "He's got a new boyfriend, anyway. Nice guy, a chef too, Swiss, called Julien."

"Right." Chris nodded, willing to be reassured. They reached the top of the stairs, and he paused to put a gentle hand to Brian's face, where the graze had formed a light scab. "Brian, what happened to your cheek?"

"Scraped it against a wall," Brian explained, then decided Chris might be tickled to know how. "I did get laid, just not by Ethan. I got fucked by a guy in the alleyway behind a club."

"Really." Chris's gray eyes went wide and dark.

The private bar was full of familiar faces, but Chris bypassed them, taking Brian's hand and leading him around behind the bar. Brian just managed a brief wave at Linus, who gave him a thumbs up sign back, before they went through to Chris's office.

Inside, Brian took a few seconds to stare; the room had been almost completely cleared. Only furniture was left: desk, chair, filing cabinets, couch. A final box of possessions sat on the desk, waiting to go. The walls were empty too, and Brian noticed Chris's favorite picture, the view of his house from out at sea drawn in pencil, clad in bubble wrap and tucked into the box. He knew it would have been the last thing Chris packed away.

There were also two Kittens hanging out, the blond one Brian was rather partial to was sprawled in the desk chair, and the dark one Chris had a weakness for was lolling on the couch. They both looked up as Chris and Brian came in, but Chris didn't so much as glance at them before shutting the door and turning to pin Brian to it.

"Tell me more," Chris said, his voice husky, hands flat against the door on either side of Brian's head.

Brian took his cue from Chris and ignored the gawping Kittens. "It was a guy in a club. Don't know his name." He had been told, but didn't remember, hadn't really listened. "Tall. All dressed in black, like you."

Chris crushed Brian's mouth with his own for a few seconds. "Go on."

The air seemed to be sucked from the room; Brian felt his breathing quicken and his heart start to thump. "Uh...he picked me up at the bar. Said he was looking for someone to fuck."

Chris pressed the full length of his body up against Brian's; Brian felt Chris's hard-on through both their pants, and heard his voice go up into a near squeak. "We made out for a while, then we went out back--"

"To an alleyway," Chris muttered, nipping at Brian's earlobe, nuzzling his neck, unbuttoning his pants.

"To an alleyway. He blew me first, down on his knees--"

Chris dropped to his knees, and Brian honestly thought he was about to pass out. His eyesight failed and the room faded to black, his hearing evaporated, all his senses left him except touch--and the only touch he was aware of was a mouth around his cock and strands of soft hair under his hands.

He tried to pull sideways, but Chris wouldn't let him, pushed him back against the door and held on tight until Brian just couldn't take any more, and came into his mouth with a burst of ecstatic relief. He felt Chris swallow and gag a little.

"He didn't do _that_," Brian managed to gasp.

Chris stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Glad to hear it. So, then what did your anonymous guy do?"

Brian turned around, pressing his forehead against the cool smooth wood. "Ass fucked me."

"Glad to hear _that_," Chris breathed into Brian's ear, and Brian heard the snap of Chris's belt buckle being undone, heard him spit, and then God yes Chris's cock pressed hard up against his tailbone, rubbing, digging gently and then easing in.

Slower than the stranger had done, but pushing just as far, just as fulfilling, just as _fucking--hot--_in and out and back and forth, and harder and faster and _Christ_, Chris, babbling incoherence into Brian's ear as he came like a train.

One of the Kittens clapped and the other whooped. Chris and Brian stood for a moment, panting, exhausted.

Chris sighed a little into Brian ear. "I thought you might forget to come back."

Brian grasped Chris's hand and held it tight. "I'm back."

END


	4. Chapter 4: When Linus Met Chris

**Title**: When Linus Met Chris: Chris and Linus, Part 1  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Pairings**: Chris/Linus friendship. Chris/Brian in the present. Linus & Chris/various OMCs in the past. (House/Wilson will show up a bit later on, in a minor supporting role).  
**Beta**: the ever-awesome srsly_yes  
**Warning**: Non-monogamous all-male sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, etc.

**Summary**: Chris is retiring, his friends are throwing a party, everyone's there. Linus reminisces about how they met many years ago.  
**Excerpt**: _"First time I ever met Linus, he was flat on his back with his cock up a guy's ass," Chris declared.  
_  
**A/N**: First of a series exploring the early years of Chris and Linus's long relationship, the nature of which is beautifully summed up in this quote srsly_yes found for me: _"... a partnership with a 20-year-old boy in whose talent I had unquestioning faith but with whom I must increasingly play the combined and tricky roles of producer, censor, adviser, impresario, father, older brother and bosom friend."_ John Houseman on Orson Welles.

**When Linus Met Chris: Chris and Linus, Part 1  
**  
"There they are!" Linus called out, delighted at the sight of Chris and Brian emerging together from Chris's office. Well, Chris's _old _office...no, it was still his office for a few more hours. This was Chris's retirement party, and he'd sold the club, but he hadn't handed over the keys to the building just yet.

"Looks like they kissed and made up," Raul observed. Chris had an arm slung around Brian's shoulders, Brian was leaning into Chris's body.

"Of course they have." Linus was confident.

"More than kissed," Raul opined.

Chris and Brian had paused to chat to the bartender. Linus peered across the room, taking in two slightly glazed expressions, tousled hair (Chris) and disheveled clothes (Brian). "Agreed. Blowjob and...full fuck, I'd say. Hey, looks like they had observers present."

Two Kittens had come out of the office and were making their way into the bar. Linus hailed them and they crossed the room to Linus's corner.

"They give you a show?" Linus queried, leaning forward in his seat, a suggestive eyebrow raised.

"Chris blew Brian, then took him up the ass," the blond Kitten confirmed, and the dark one let out a whistled breath of admiration. Linus basked in momentary smugness and Raul squeezed his thigh.

The Kittens wandered off to get drinks, and Chris and Brian came over to sit with Linus and Raul. Chris still had an arm around Brian's shoulder, and his smile was truly happy for the first time that evening; Linus was fervently glad that Brian was back.

"So glad to see you kids together again," Linus greeted them.

"Awesome party, Linus," Chris said, his voice a little softer than it had been earlier on. "You've managed to get _everyone _here. I wouldn't have believed it."

"Not quite everyone, not yet," Linus said, rather fretfully. "Wilson promised me he'd do his best to come, I do hope those doctor schedules allow it. He said House had a patient, that might make it difficult."

"Still awesome." Chris was firm. "There's people here who I haven't seen in years. I should go talk to some of them."

"The night is young yet, Chris, plenty of time," Linus intoned. "I did try and get everyone I could who I remembered being here on the first night, when we opened the club. It was a challenge. People live all over the place now, but then, it was a long time ago."

"You both owned the club at the start, right?" Brian asked, straightening his spectacles on his nose.

"Linus owned it first, briefly," Chris explained.

"Chris purchased a half share initially, and bought me out a couple of years later," Linus clarified.

"And that was how you guys first met?" Raul queried.

"No, not quite." Linus grinned, remembering. "We knew each other a while before that. Right, Chris?"

"First time I ever met Linus, he was flat on his back with his cock up a guy's ass," Chris declared. A nearby Kitten giggled.

"I guess things don't change much," Linus said with a wink. "Let me tell the story."

* * *

A college student basking in newly discovered freedom and somewhat lacking in common sense had decided that Mom and Dad going on vacation was a great opportunity to have a party at their house. Word of the event spread around the gay community like wildfire; Linus and Enzo arrived in the first wave.

It was a good party, lots of food and drink and men available. Linus would have liked to spend a bit more time meeting people and chatting, but Enzo was in an obvious horny mood and after a while he got impatient for gratification.

"Let's go find somewhere a bit more private," he hissed into Linus's ear, while inserting a deft hand into the pocket of Linus's pants. _Ooh_. Linus wriggled a little; that felt good.

"If you insist," Linus murmured back, curling a hand around Enzo's beautiful neck, brushing soft black hair with his fingertips.

They found a bedroom that Linus guessed was their host's parents' room. Oh well, it had a bed in it and that seemed to be all that mattered. They were naked and getting on _very _well, thank you very much, when suddenly they were interrupted by a blaze of light; someone had opened the door.

Linus looked up, mid-thrust, to see two young men come tumbling into the room. One was fair haired, the other dark haired, and they appeared to be umbilically attached at the mouth. Fair Hair had his hands plastered over Dark Hair's body, Dark Hair reached behind to push the door shut. The room in semi-darkness again, the men leaned against a wall, pulling at each others' clothes. Linus and Enzo paused to gape.

Then Fair Hair tweaked an eyelid open a fraction, and opened it wide when he saw them. His hands froze inside Dark Hair's shirt, and Dark Hair pulled back and turned around to see Linus and Enzo on the bed.

_"Fuck!" _said Fair Hair, and _"Shit!"_ said Dark Hair, almost simultaneously.

"No problem, guys," Linus said, starting to rock his hips backwards and forwards again, wallowing in the pleasurable feelings coming to the fore. "Stay if you want. I've always been at my best in front of an audience, isn't that right, Enzo?"

Enzo snickered and arched his tight little ass a little more. "_Ugh_. Don't stop."

"You're the boss." Linus breathed deeply, sensuality rippling through his bones, blood starting to pump around his body. He closed his eyes, but remained tinglingly aware of the two sets of wide eyes trained on him across the room. His orgasm built much more rapidly than before and within a few minutes he came, spurting up into the condom with a strangled gasp. He reached to jerk Enzo off with a shaky hand; Enzo was also close, and needed little help.

The sound of clapping reminded Linus of their spectators: first the fair haired guy, then the dark haired one, burst into applause.

"Encore!" Dark Hair said cheekily.

"You'll have to provide that yourself," Linus said between shuddered breaths, as Enzo eased himself off and collapsed onto the bed next to him.

Dark Hair looked at Fair Hair, who shrugged a little, and then they started to neck again. Linus and Enzo lay still and watched. Enzo was sprawled flat in apparent exhaustion, but Linus could see his eyes sparkle as he saw the two men begin to kiss with a passion, then fumble with each others' belts. Linus momentarily enjoyed a beautiful view of the dark haired one's cock, red and hard, pressing up against the fingers of the other man's hand. Then the fair haired one's cock also came into view, equally red and hard, the two rubbing and skating together to a stupendous double climax.

"Bravo," Linus declared, and Enzo raised his arms feebly to applaud.

* * *

The two guys vanished as soon as they were able to stand steady on both feet and zip up their flies. Linus and Enzo snoozed briefly on the bed, but then someone else rapped on the door, and they reluctantly got dressed and vacated the room.

The house had a large garden with a pool out back. Linus went out for a breath of air; it was too chilly for many people to be outside, but he spotted a familiar figure sprawled on a deckchair by the pool. It was one of the guys from earlier, the fair-haired one. Linus strolled across, and when he got a friendly nod, he sat down.

The guy proffered a packet of Marlboros and Linus took one. "Thanks. I'm Linus."

"My name's Chris," Fair Hair said, and flicked a lighter with practiced ease. Linus lit the cigarette and breathed in smoke.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Chris asked, taking a long drag on his own cigarette.

"Inside trying to get laid again. I've made him promise he'll tell me if he succeeds, so I can go watch." Linus blew out a lungful of smoke. "Where's yours?"

"Mine?" Chris grinned and tapped ash. "No idea. I met him three hours ago. And we didn't exactly exchange phone numbers."

"Ah." Linus grinned back. "So, you're a student around here? Undergrad?"

Chris hesitated before replying. "...Yeah."

Linus guessed that Chris was in the habit of passing himself off as older. One swift careful glance sideways later, Linus decided Chris was no more than twenty. He had a quiet self-confident air that Linus suspected helped him pass for older. The maturity probably came from money, Linus decided. Wealthy, supportive parents, perhaps?

"And you?" Chris asked.

"Postgrad. Part time MBA." Linus was nonchalant, not inclined to share much more with someone he'd only just met. Albeit someone he'd just seen performing frottage with another stranger. Who'd been a stranger to _him_, too...this was a great party.

And it was about to get better: suddenly Enzo appeared. "Linus, come, quick, I found someone!" He spotted Chris and recognized him. "Ooh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"S'okay." Chris smiled at Enzo, a warm smile that told Linus Chris was more than a little attracted to his beautiful companion. Enzo clearly realized this too, and pouted a bit in return.

Linus allowed himself to be dragged away, and they left Chris sitting by the pool, smoking his cigarette.

"That was Chris. He seemed like a nice guy," Linus remarked as they made their way back into the house.

"Hot," Enzo agreed. "Almost as hot as this guy you're about to meet."

* * *

The next time Linus saw Chris, it was a couple of weeks later in a bar. Linus had dropped in for a swift beer on his way home from a meeting. He spotted Chris sitting at the bar, on his own, nursing a glass of whiskey. Linus waved, and Chris nodded back, and Linus took this as encouragement to join him.

"I'm fairly sure you're not old enough to be in here," Linus said by way of greeting.

"Tell that to my ID," Chris retorted.

"I don't think I should look at it that closely," Linus batted back. Chris smirked a little.

"I'm glad to see you again," Chris said, a trifle unexpectedly. "I asked around about you, and found you're quite the full-time businessman along with being a part-time student. I hadn't realized."

Linus pondered this reaction; apparently being in the world of work had earned him some respect. "I have to work. Also, each activity supports the other: I put the learning into practice, and make money to pay the tuition."

"Really?" Chris turned his head to look directly at Linus. "I'd have had you down for rich parents footing the bills."

"Christ, no." Linus was almost offended. "No parents, rich or otherwise. I have a small battalion of elderly aunts who try and run my life between them. They aren't poor, but they aren't exactly in a position to support me through a second set of college fees."

"Oh." Chris looked thoughtful.

"I don't want to give the impression that I'm broke," Linus added, aware as he spoke that he wore expensive clothes and shoes, and a designer watch. "I have money. But I've made it myself for the most part. I buy and sell stuff. Wine. Property. Whatever comes my way."

"How old are you?" Chris asked, as if he couldn't help but ask.

Linus smirked. "You shouldn't ask questions you wouldn't answer yourself." But he didn't mind replying. "Twenty-five."

"Christ," Chris said, his tone grudgingly admiring.

"I always told myself I wanted to afford a Rolex by the time I was twenty-five," Linus found himself confiding. "I managed it a year early."

"It's a good idea to have a goal." Chris drained his glass. "I should do the same. Tell you what. I want to afford a Harley-Davidson by the time I'm twenty-five. _That _should be an incentive for me."

"Whatever floats your boat." Motorcycles were something of a mystery to Linus. "I have a new goal now-I want my own custom-built house by the ocean by the time I'm thirty. I need to find somewhere to build it first, unfortunately."

"Here's to ambition," Chris said, and they chinked glasses.

Linus drained his glass, put it down and glanced at his Rolex. "I have to go now, Enzo's expecting me home."

"The cute boyfriend?" Chris asked, and Linus noticed the gray eyes darken a little.

"He is terribly cute, isn't he? Alas, we cannot go to bars together. He cannot pass for twenty-one, however good his ID is, and however much I might tip the doorman." Linus's tone was whimsical as he slid off the bar stool, and then he paused as a rather attractive thought struck him. "Come back with me, Chris."

Chris blinked. "What?"

"Enzo's always on the lookout for hot men to fool around with," Linus explained, growing more enthusiastic by the second. "He'll be ecstatic if I bring one home for him."

Chris looked surprised, then suspicious. "What are you, his boyfriend or his pimp?"

"My dear Chris." Linus was affronted. "I am talking about _pleasure _now, not business. The more the merrier. You like Enzo, right?-he certainly liked you. He'd jump at the chance."

"And you-don't mind." Chris looked like he was still trying to get his head around this.

"Have you ever watched a boyfriend of yours being fucked by another man?" Linus asked, deliberately provocative. "I tell you, it's the biggest turn-on."

Chris hesitated, but clearly the prospect of a willing Enzo was enough temptation. He shrugged rather sheepishly. "What the hell. Let's go."

They drove back to Linus's house, Linus in his car, Chris following on a rather battered old motorcycle, a Honda. Linus watched the lights in his rear view mirror, wondering if Chris might get cold feet and just swing off the road and vanish en route, but no; he kept following, and parked outside Linus's apartment.

Linus lived in a large roomy loft. It was sparsely furnished, but the pieces he owned were as good a quality as he could afford. In the middle of the living room was an enormous plush couch, and curled up among cushions watching the hulking beast of a television was Enzo.

"Enzo," Linus caroled as he came in the door. "We have company."

Enzo looked up, and his face lit up as he saw who was there. "Chris." His voice was a husky drawl, and he blinked soulful eyes through feathery eyelashes. "_Join _me."

"What the fuck am I getting into?" Chris muttered under his breath as he shrugged off his leather jacket. Enzo picked up a remote control and snapped the TV off.

"Just stop thinking, and make yourself at home," Linus returned, kicking off his shoes and settling himself comfortably in a nearby armchair.

Chris stood for a few seconds looking rather self-conscious, but Enzo simply reached slender arms towards him, and Linus knew this was going to be okay. Better than okay, it was going to be just amazingly hot.

Chris snuggled down among the cushions, and he and Enzo had a brief murmured conversation which Linus couldn't hear; he guessed Chris was ascertaining that Enzo wasn't some kind of victim. Linus had no worries there; Enzo knew his own mind. Apparently Chris was satisfied, as he and Enzo bumped mouths, then started chewing on each others' lips.

_This _was what it was all about. Linus sighed happily and unbuttoned his own fly, watching as Chris's hands began to roam underneath Enzo's T-shirt, feeling Enzo's shoulders, chest, and now flicking briefly at a nipple. Enzo groaned and arched his beautiful body underneath Chris's touch; wriggling out of pants, exposing a pert cock that gave Linus a surge of desire just to look at.

Chris obviously felt the same, as he hastened to shed his own clothes, pausing only to find a small foil-wrapped packet in a jeans pocket. _Good boy_, Linus mentally applauded.

Enzo stayed nestled on the sofa, reaching for Chris's cock, and Linus felt his own breathing quicken rapidly as Chris straddled Enzo's face. Fuck, this was _glorious_; Chris, supporting himself on his arms, was tanned and muscled and strong, and Enzo, taking him in his mouth, was a bundle of handsome writhing gasping nerves below.

After a couple of minutes Chris pulled back, panting, holding off.

Enzo, his mouth now free, breathed, "Fuck me, Chris, now, _now_-"

"Yeah," Chris assented, reaching downward, probing with fingers. He gave a little snort of amusement. "You're...ready for this."

"Anticipation," Enzo assured him with a coquettish grin. Linus grinned too, knowing Enzo would have been stretching himself in readiness for Linus's return.

Chris shook his head, grasped Enzo by the arms, and levered himself in down below.

_Fuck fuck fuck_ Linus was in heaven, watching his beloved Enzo speared, his body jolting under swift, hard thrusts, and crying for more. Their bodies locked and sank into the cushions, Enzo's knees spread wide, Chris's bare ass jerking back and forth.

They fucked for a while, slowly, both of them obviously intent on eking things out as long as possible; but eventually it got too much. Enzo came first, gurgling as he spilled over onto his own chest; Chris was galvanized by the sight, and climaxed a couple of hard pushes later.

It brought Linus over the edge too, and as he sank back into his armchair into a satisfied snooze, he reveled in having discovered this fair-haired young man who was willing to go along with such an offer.

When he emerged from his stupor half an hour later, though, Chris had already gone, leaving Enzo sound asleep on the couch.

* * *

Struck that Chris had asked around about him, Linus made it his business to return the favor and find out a little about Chris. He talked to various people and eventually found a mutual acquaintance, a college classmate of Chris's called Jerry Kosinsky. "But call me Jai."

"Jay?" Linus asked.

"_Jai_. With an 'i'," Jerry-Jai-said with dignity, pronouncing it more to rhyme with _guy _than _gay_, although the difference was tiny. Jai was a thoroughly nondescript looking young man, except for a broad pink streak in his hair and a rather outlandish outfit. He was wearing an unevenly cut purple patterned jacket that Linus suspected might be home-made.

What Linus found out over a beer and a burger with Jai surprised him; he had more in common with Chris than he'd realized. Although an undistinguished student, Chris worked three jobs and was completely self-supporting.

"He waits tables, he mops floors, he bartends, anything. Don't know how he does it," Jai marveled. "He's always on the lookout for ways to keep busy, earn money. Won't be indebted to anyone, hardly even for a round of drinks."

"No rich parents?" Linus queried.

"No parents, period. They died when he was just a kid," Jai explained, biting into the burger. "He didn't have any other relatives, he was brought up by a guardian who died when he was sixteen. My Mom and Dad felt sorry for him when I told them he was an orphan, they tried to be nice, said he could come over anytime. But he didn't want charity, hates pity."

Linus thought this all was really quite remarkable, and started reassessing everything he'd previously thought.

"Why're you interested in Chris, anyway? Want to hook up with him?" Jai winked and stuck a French fry in his mouth. "I could set you up. Mind you, you're not really his type."

"I'm not trying to get into his pants," Linus said, rather cross at having his motives impugned, and was surprised as he spoke to realize the truth of that. "I'm just interested." And because he _was _interested, he couldn't help but ask, "So what _is _his type, anyway?"

"He's not after a sugar daddy, never known him to go for anyone older than himself." Jai cast a critical eye over Linus. "He goes for guys more his own age, fit guys, guys who look like they work out. No offense."

"None taken." Linus didn't bother to exercise or watch his diet, and knew he was heavier than he should be. He didn't particularly care: he found his looks combined with a bit of charisma was easily enough to do whatever he wanted to do.

"And he's a great one for one-night stands," Jai added, and Linus nodded; he'd had that impression already. "Not always. But a relationship longer than a couple of weeks is an eternity for him. Never known him to hang out with anyone long enough that you'd actually say he had a boyfriend."

"Interesting." Linus pondered that attitude, wondered if it stemmed from the lack of family. On his own in the world from an early age, stubbornly independent, not wanting to rely on anyone else-financially or emotionally. But if so, Linus didn't relate to it. Linus liked being with someone else, adored being adored, loved loving other people, was happy to let relationships last as long as seemed natural.

"Hey, me and my roommate are having a party next week, Friday night," Jai remarked. "Chris'll be there. Lotsa other people too. Wanna come?"

* * *

Linus and Enzo arrived at the party to find a familiar figure wearing tattered jeans, a tight white T-shirt and a worn leather jacket taking money at the door.

"Is this a gay frat party I see before me?" Linus demanded, peering over Chris's shoulder.

"Yeah. Twenty bucks each and you're in." Chris winked at Enzo, who rested his head against Linus's shoulder and smirked back.

Linus thumbed his nose and got out his wallet. "You're the host now? You don't live here, do you?"

Chris shook his head. "No, but I know two of the guys who share this house. They wanted to throw a party, I offered to run it. Said I'd charge a small fee to keep bad guys out and alcohol flowing. It's going well."

"Very good," Linus said admiringly. "You're quite the little entrepreneur, aren't you?"

Chris grinned as he pocketed the money. "Not in your league."

A couple of hours later Linus was buzzed and enjoying himself immensely, when he spotted a guy heading down the hallway, making his way towards a bathroom. Nothing unusual in that, but he was closely followed by Chris.

Linus gave them a couple of minutes head start, then murmured an excuse to Enzo and wandered off to see what was happening. He saw another guy with a quarterback's build had taken Chris's place by the front door, and wondered if Chris had given him a cut.

The bathroom door was closed, but Linus didn't need to put his ear to the keyhole to hear the grunts and groans within. He lingered in the hallway, and a minute later the door opened and out came the first guy, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and flattening his hair with the other.

Linus peered inside and found Chris leaning against a wall, breathing quickly and buttoning up his fly.

"He give good head?" Linus asked.

Chris jumped with surprise. "What the fuck!"

"You let him off his twenty bucks entrance for a blowjob?" Linus guessed cheekily. "Hey, if that's the going rate these days-"

_"Fuck-you!" _Chris said sternly. "He paid the twenty bucks!"

He strode out of the bathroom, and he and Linus fell into step as they headed back towards the living room. Chris's tone was ironic as he added, "I don't mix business with pleasure. Much."

Linus hummed with amusement at that. "Are you very..._driven_, Chris?"

"Driven?" Chris looked uncomfortable. "Don't know what you mean."

"I asked around about you," Linus remarked, echoing Chris's previous comment to him. "You're a hard worker. I have the impression you must be incredibly self-motivated."

"Well, I want to be my own boss, if that's what you mean," Chris declared staunchly. They arrived back in the living room, where Enzo was sitting mired in a large beanbag.

"I've always felt the same," Linus said to Chris, waving at Enzo to show him he wasn't abandoned. "But I more meant that you're alone in the world! I don't think I know of many people with no family at all, who have _never_ had family at all, with no money, who not only finish high school but get themselves to college."

Chris shrugged. "I _am_ due an inheritance from my parents, but not much, and not 'til I'm twenty-one."

"You mean you're not twenty-one yet?" Linus said with mock surprise, and was gratified to see Chris color a little at that.

"Fuck you. Anyway, you _wish_ I was younger," Chris retaliated with unexpected perception. He nodded across the room towards Enzo. "You go for that barely legal look, right?"

Ouch. Linus was rendered silent by that.

"Sorry," Chris added, apparently realizing he'd hit a sore spot. "It's none of my business."

"That's okay. You're right, of course. It's kinda got me into trouble in the past." Now it was Linus's turn to wonder why he was confiding his shit in this guy who he hardly knew. He raised a hand in a Jedi mind-wipe motion. "Forget it. You go back to the door, Chris, and I will see if the lovely young man over there will do for me what you got just now."

Chris nodded, turned to go, then remarked, "You want an audience again, let me know."

"I'm always _up _for an audience," Linus replied with a smirk.

Late that evening, when the party had quietened and thinned out, Linus got his audience.

* * *

"What happened to Enzo?" Raul asked, obviously intrigued by this original stray cat. "_He's_ not here tonight, is he?"

"I'm afraid not. My darling Enzo was only in the country for a year, his gap year he called it, between school and college. He went home to Portugal," Linus explained sadly. "He said he'd stay in touch, but he didn't of course. People so rarely do."

"Look who's here!" someone suddenly exclaimed, and Linus looked up to see a familiar figure coming into the bar; followed by a tall stubbled man tapping a cane.

"Wilson!" Chris said with obvious delight, and stood up and rushed across the room.

"And House," Brian said, more quietly but with equal pleasure, and he too got up and went over.

"They made it, the evening is complete," Linus declared, getting to his feet to follow Brian.

"Chris, great to see you, couldn't believe it when Linus said you're actually retiring!" Wilson greeted Chris, shaking Chris's hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

"So, Brian," House rasped as Brian approached. "Last time we saw you, Chrissy Boy didn't want to have sex with you anymore. Sort that one out, did you?"

_"House!" _Wilson reprimanded. Chris looked rather startled, but grinned.

"We sorted it out," Brian said awkwardly, looking at the floor, and House nodded and mirrored his pose.

It was gonna be a fun evening, Linus decided, and sighed happily.

END OF PART 1

TBC. Next part: Chris's retirement party continues, and Linus remembers the time Chris met his aunts.


	5. Chapter 5: Pretend Boyfriend

**Title**: Pretend Boyfriend: Chris and Linus, part 2  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris, Linus, OMCs  
**Warning**: Non-monogamous relationships. Warning for reference to teenage and underage sexuality.  
**Beta**: I bow down again to the awesomeness of srsly_yes

**Summary**: Chris's retirement party continues. Linus remembers the time Chris met his Great Aunts DeeDee, Jayne, Maggie and Liana.

**Excerpt**: _"I need a pretend boyfriend," Linus said brightly, and Chris threw up his hands. "But you've got a real boyfriend!" _

**Pretend Boyfriend: Chris and Linus, part 2**

The party was going very well, Linus was pleased to see. Chris had quite shaken off his earlier fatigue; he was bright and bouncy and clearly delighted to have so many of his friends around. He was over at the bar with Wilson, engaged in conversation with Bob, the former club manager. Bob had known Chris and Wilson as a couple all those years ago, of course.

"So how's your sex life, Linus?" House asked, propping his cane up against his chair.

"Prostateless but still partying, thank you," Linus beamed.

"And yours, Brian?" House stretched his leg out in front of him.

"Fine and dandy," Brian muttered with an embarrassed grin.

It was fun having House and Wilson there, if only to see the effect on Chris and Brian. Although Linus had no idea what Chris and Wilson were talking about, he could see broad smiles and laughter. Meanwhile House kept one eye on Wilson, and the other eye very casually acknowledged Brian. It was the mildest of mild flirting Linus had ever seen, but Brian had flushed cheeks visible through his beard, and he kept pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I would say _get a room_," Linus remarked, never being one to hold back. "But it might upset your other halves over at the bar there."

"You could all four of you get a room together," Raul murmured,_ sotto voce_, too quiet for anyone but Linus to hear. Linus snorted in amusement.

"So, what's the plan, Linus?" Brian asked, obviously keen to change the subject. "Is there a presentation at some point?"

"A giant card, a cake? Do we all sing _happy retirement to you_?" House caroled.

"Yes, there is a card and a little book. Ferdinand's kept it behind the bar for the last couple of weeks to get all the regulars to sign and write about their memories of the club. He's done amazingly well to keep Chris from seeing it," Linus explained. "And yes, there's a cake, baked by the chef at the steakhouse. It has a Harley Davidson iced on it."

"But when do the Chippendales show?" House whined.

"No strippers here at the club, unless you want to oblige us, House," Linus said with a wink. "But the party ends here when the club closes at two AM, and then anyone who wants to can come to my house and strip all they want."

"Are you making a speech?" Brian asked.

"I am. I have notes." Linus patted his pockets. "All of Chris's most embarrassing moments. Although I found when I wrote them up that a lot of them seemed to be about me, too."

"Like what?" House asked.

"Oh, the time we pretended to be a couple, a long long time ago." Linus sat back in his chair, entering reminisce mode. "And the time we tried to have sex. Hey, you're preempting my speech, you can wait and hear it with everyone else."

* * *

Linus had been looking forward to a very pleasant evening in with his adorable new boyfriend.

He'd spotted Paulo in a student cafe a few weeks before, and been entranced by the young man's beautiful olive skin and grave, dark eyes. It had been the middle of the day and hardly a pick-up situation, but Linus had attempted some gently flirtatious conversation and been delighted to find that Paulo responded with shy smiles and batting eyelashes. They'd gone out for dinner, and Linus had barely been able to keep his hands off him.

Fortunately that level of restraint hadn't been necessary since. It had all progressed rather swimmingly since. And it was most exasperating to be interrupted by the telephone, even if it was Chris.

"I want to show you something," Chris said over the phone. "A place down by the coast. I'm on the bike, I'll come to your house and we can drive down in your car."

"I'm having a nice evening in, and hot sex is definitely on the agenda," Linus moaned, but curiosity got the better of him. "Oh okay, come on over. Just make sure I get home before Paulo falls asleep."

Chris arrived half an hour later, walking into Linus's living room wearing full biking leathers-snug brown jacket, tight black pants, high-laced chunky boots. Linus heard Paulo audibly gasp at the sight.

"Chris, I'd like you to meet a very special friend of mine," Linus announced, and pushed Paulo forward. "This is Paulo."

"Hey," Chris said politely, and Paulo nodded and then ducked backwards and out of the room.

"He's a bit shy," Chris remarked as they left. "And seriously, Linus, am I getting older or are they getting younger?"

"Bit of both, Chris, bit of both," Linus said solemnly.

They were in the car and driving away, when Chris asked, apparently idly, "You once told me that going for younger men had kinda gotten you into trouble. What was that about?"

Linus was open and willing to talk about practically every facet of his life, except this one. He tried to follow Chris's train of thought, and grimaced. "You want to check you've not made friends with a child molester."

"I know you're not _that_," Chris said immediately. "I just wondered-I didn't mean to pry."

Linus sighed and drove on a little way, then said, "This is between you and me." He waved an arm around the car interior, trying to lighten the mood. "And these four walls."

"Of course."

"I was a senior at college when I met this lovely boy called Ken. I knew he was a high school student, lived with his parents, sneaked out to see me behind their backs...but I thought he was eighteen, I really did. Maybe seventeen." Linus kept his eyes straight forward on the road ahead. "We'd been together a couple of weeks when he asked me if I'd buy him this..._horrendously _expensive hi-fi equipment for his birthday. I tried to laugh it off as a joke, but he just looked at me and said, 'But it's a special birthday. Surely you'll want to buy me something nice, I'm going to be sweet sixteen.'"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Chris said with genuine horror. "He wasn't even sixteen?"

"No, he wasn't. I saw his ID. Chris, I couldn't believe it; he was tall and fit and mature and sensible, none of that teenage awkward lankiness. He looked so much older, and acted it too, he really did...I was furious, but he just acted innocent, said _I thought you knew, I thought it turned you on_. He knew damned well I didn't know." Linus blew out a long breath. "Well, I never touched him again-honest to God-but I had to buy him this enormous hi-fi."

He watched indignant realization dawn on Chris. "What the fuck? He blackmailed you!"

"He did, Chris, but what could I do?" Linus rubbed his eyes, reliving the nightmare, the fear, the tortured thought processes. "Even if anyone had believed I didn't know, even if they believed he was blackmailing me...so what? He was still a minor, it was still statutory rape, and he had me up shit creek without a paddle."

Chris was silent. Linus waved a hand and continued, "To be honest, it could have been worse. I was on tenterhooks that he was going to come back and demand more, but it ended with the hi-fi, and I was grateful for that. I have to admit it contributed to my decision to leave Boston once I finished college. I applied to do my MBA at Rutgers instead, and that's how I ended up in New Jersey."

"Well. I'm glad you ended up in New Jersey," Chris sounded awkward.

"A silver lining," Linus agreed, and turned on the car radio.

Conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, broken only by occasional directions from Chris. They got to the main coastal road and drove some way along the highway before turning off onto an unmarked minor road. There followed a long bumpy ride down to the ocean.

The sun was going down and the light starting to fade when they arrived at an old building right on the shore. It looked as if a bomb had hit it; roofless with blackened walls standing but not much else. Linus got out of the car and surveyed the scene. Pieces of charred wood, metal and other debris were scattered around. A sign on the ground nearby indicated that it had once been a restaurant.

"It's a burnt-out shell," Linus observed.

"I've bought it," Chris said simply, and waved an arm around. "This whole plot of land-from the trees on that side to the wall on the other. I'm going to rebuild it and open my own restaurant."

"Well." Linus couldn't help but admire the ambition. "Good luck. You are stark raving mad, by the way."

"Probably." Chris admitted.

"So why am I here again?" Linus inquired.

"I thought you'd be interested." Chris grinned. "I also wondered if you wanted to invest in it."

"Oh ho. I see." Linus snorted.

And he was about to say _you must be out of your fucking mind_, when a brilliant pink ray lit the sky. The sun was dim and low, and a golden orange hue beamed broadly. Linus imaged restaurant visitors dining, perhaps outside on some nicely landscaped terrace, basking in the sunset glow every evening. It was a compelling vision.

"You deliberately brought me here at sunset," Linus realized, and Chris grinned. Linus shook a finger at him. "Don't think you can dazzle me that easily. Where did you get the money to buy it in the first place?"

"That inheritance from my parents came through. Twenty-one, remember? But there's not much left to actually spend renovating it." Chris passed a hand over his face. "I can do most of it myself. I think. But I'll need to buy materials..."

"You are definitely stark raving mad. When will you have the time?"

"Oh, I dropped out of college," Chris said, matter-of-fact. "This is my job now."

Linus sucked in his breath, but didn't waste time on the college thing; he was not Chris's mom. "You've got the time, have you got the skills? Can you put up a roof? Can you paint and decorate? For goodness sake, it's a restaurant-can you cook?"

Chris laughed. "A bit, but I'll employ a chef for that."

"Employees require salaries. I want to see a proper business plan for this before you get a penny out of me." Linus stabbed the air for emphasis. "How much you want and exactly what it's going to be spent on. What kind of restaurant is it going to be? How will you market it? Who's your audience? I want cold hard evidence that you've thought this through and it makes financial sense. For both of us."

"I'll do it," Chris said simply, and Linus thought he just might.

They wandered around the site and talked a bit more, then headed back to Linus's apartment. He invited Chris to come in, but Chris declined, apparently wanting to go straight home and start work on the business plan.

Linus got home to find Paulo curled up in bed with a book. Linus sat down next to him and ruffled his hair. Paulo arched his neck under Linus's touch, and smiled through huge dark eyes.

"Did you have a nice time with your friend?" Paulo asked, with a small suggestive flick of an eyelash.

"I did. It wasn't a social call though, he wants me to invest in his restaurant, which is currently a big pile of burnt ash." Linus shook his head at the memory.

"Oh, I thought you might...be away all night." Paulo put it delicately. "He's a good looking guy."

"We don't fuck, me and Chris," Linus explained, and as he spoke he wondered _why not?_

It wasn't like either of them would take it too seriously...they both knew they weren't each other's types. Of course mixing business with pleasure wasn't a good idea, but they were each sensible enough not to let a bit of sexual gratification interfere with making money, or anything as important as that. And the guy _was _hot.

But the beautiful Paulo was there and smiling and available, and Linus put the thought from his mind.

* * *

The restaurant opened a year later, and Linus had to hand it to Chris, he'd really done it.

Linus had put some money up on the basis of a share in future profits. He'd also provided contacts in the trade, had his say on plans and designs, and argued with Chris over what kind of restaurant it should be. Chris put far more effort in, contributing blood and sweat and tears; he'd overseen plumbers, architects, and engineers; done roofing, tiling and painting; hired people to devise menus, source ingredients, and do the cooking.

And the end result was very good indeed. It was a steakhouse, serving top quality meat and seafood, with a wine list Linus personally compiled and supplied. It was an establishment to be proud of, and Linus found going there a real pleasure. He started to use it as a venue to take friends and business acquaintances.

On one notable occasion he brought family there too. He warned Chris in advance.

"Chris, I've booked the private room for a Sunday luncheon, and I'd be delighted if you'd join me and my guests."

"Sure," the unsuspecting Chris agreed. "Who are they?"

"My four delightful great-aunts," Linus confessed, and Chris choked on his coffee.

Linus had told Chris before about the raft of maiden aunts who had taken turns to raise him. He'd spent his childhood being shuttled from pillar to post, encountering in each home love and affection tempered with a strong will and determination that _they _knew what was best for him (somehow never the same thing as any of their sisters wanted).

"What? All four of them? And you want _me_ there?"

"I need a pretend boyfriend," Linus said brightly, and Chris threw up his hands.

"But you've got a _real _boyfriend!"

"Paulo is petrified at the thought of meeting them," Linus admitted. A year on, Paulo was less shy than when Linus had met him, and got on very well with Chris, but was still timid with strangers. "I can't put the poor boy through it, Chris, they'd eat him alive. He suggested maybe you could do it."

"Why do you need any kind of boyfriend?" Chris demanded.

Linus sighed. "My aunts have been looking to pair me off their entire _lives_, Chris. And those are long lives, believe me. They figured out a long time ago that they had to find me a nice boy rather than a nice girl and ugh, Chris, I had some awful blind dates with some complete losers when I was younger. If I don't tell them I'm with someone, there's a real danger they'll dig up some ghastly fool and bring him along for me."

That made Chris laugh. "Alright, I'll do it. Tell Paulo he owes me one."

"I'm sure he'll be only happy to repay you however he can," Linus said with a wink.

Paulo was duly grateful, and repaid Chris with a stupendous blowjob that evening.

* * *

The lunch with the aunts was a little stressful, if frequently hilarious.

The private room was large and airy with a perfect view of the ocean. The aunts collectively approved of the decor and surroundings.

Chris swept in a few minutes after they'd all arrived, ordered, and settled down, and Linus noticed that although he must have come on the motorcycle, he'd taken the trouble to change out of his biking gear. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a crisp white T-shirt with the arms cut off; his fair hair shone with health and life, and his gray eyes sparkled with intelligence and good humor. Quite a catch, Linus realized wryly.

"Chris, these are my aunts: Jayne, DeeDee, Maggie, and Liana," Linus gestured around the table. Four pairs of alert critical eyes scrutinized Chris up and down; he smiled back at them and slid into the seat waiting for him, between Aunt DeeDee and Aunt Maggie.

"It's very nice to meet you all," he said.

"Very nice to meet you too, Chris," said Aunt Jayne. "We were so pleased to hear Linus had met someone."

"He's very bad about introducing his boyfriends to us," said Aunt Maggie.

"I can't think why." Chris positively beamed across the table at Linus. Linus decided Chris was enjoying this a little too much, and sent him a warning scowl.

"The New Jersey coast is a lot nicer than I realized," Aunt DeeDee contributed. "We all never understood why Linus chose to live out here."

"You all live in New York, is that right?" Chris asked politely.

"New York state," Aunt Maggie clarified. "Liana lives in the city, but the rest of us prefer places where we can have gardens and breathe fresh air now and again."

"She's just jealous of my apartment," Aunt Liana confided across the table. "It's on the Upper East Side-"

"In her dreams," Aunt Jayne was derisive. "It's the lowest of the lowest of what might be interpreted as the Upper East Side if you're feeling generous. And it's the size of a shoebox."

"I'd rather live in a shoebox in the finest city in the world than in a tumbledown old ruin in the back of beyond," Aunt Liana responded, and things went on for some time in this vein over shrimp cocktail and _moules mariniere_.

After their starters were all finished and cleared away, Chris excused himself to go check on the main course, and Linus followed him out of the room and collared him outside the door.

"So good of you to make the effort to dress up," Linus muttered, plucking at the waistband of Chris's jeans.

"Least I could do on such a special occasion, _boyfriend_," Chris murmured back with a grin. "Thought I should look respectable. Didn't want them to think you were going out with a leather boy."

"Oh, they'd love that. They'd think I'd found myself a bit of rough and tumble, and they'd tut and be secretly thrilled." Linus grinned. "As it is, you almost look straight. Fortunately that T-shirt is just tight enough to prove you aren't."

Back at the table for steaks of varying sizes and descriptions, conversation switched to the young Linus.

"I called him as gay first, you know," Aunt DeeDee informed Chris. "We had a very handsome Filipino handyman around the place when Linus was about eleven, and I could see I wasn't the only one who took a bit of a fancy to him."

Linus covered his face with a hand. "Aunt DeeDee, please..."

"I knew earlier than that," Aunt Maggie butted in. "I remember Linus lived with me for a while when he was seven. I totally called it then, I remember I even told Liana."

"You never did," Liana contradicted.

"I knew before Linus did himself," Aunt Jayne capped.

"No, you didn't." Linus didn't want to be rude, but couldn't quite stop himself objecting to that. He'd always known.

"I _always _thought-" began Aunt Liana.

"Linus is really lucky to have such a supportive family," Chris interjected smoothly. "More ketchup, Aunt Liana?"

Linus excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he came back he saw Chris had stepped outside onto the beach for a cigarette. Linus went to join him, waving to the aunts inside through the large glass window.

Chris offered him a cigarette, and Linus saw he looked rather stunned.

"Thanks. What's up? Did one of them bite your balls off?"

"Kind of." Chris took a drag. "Your Aunt Jayne just...warned me."

"Warned you?" Linus didn't understand. "About what?"

"Warned me I had better not hurt you, or I'd have them to answer to." Chris shook his head, then broke into a smile. "They're like a bunch of bulldogs, fierce but incredibly loyal."

"Ah, Chris." Linus put a hand to his forehead, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, when I asked you to do this I didn't quite realize what you'd have to put up with."

"It's no problem. Hey, let's give them a thrill," Chris said suddenly, and before Linus could even get his head round that, Chris placed a hand on Linus's cheek, leaned forward and kissed him.

_Fucking hell!_ Linus almost choked on unexpected tongue, then figured they might as well make it look good. He kissed back, curling a hand around the back of Chris's neck, then cast a surreptitious glance sideways.

It felt wet and sloppy rather than sexual. But was totally worth it anyway to see the looks on Aunts DeeDee, Maggie, Liana, and Jayne's faces.

* * *

For a while running the steakhouse took a lot of Chris's time, then when it became clear that the manager and head chef he'd employed were competent and trustworthy, he relaxed a bit and turned some of his attention elsewhere. He was offered a good deal on a bar on the main road nearby. Linus advised him not to overstretch, but Chris thought there was potential; good position, lots of passing trade, right next door to a motel. He went ahead and somehow made it work.

They met for lunch one day, at the prime table in the steakhouse with the best view of the ocean outside. Sparkling waves accompanied surf n' turf with fries and a fruity red wine.

"It really is very nice down here by the ocean," Linus remarked.

"Yeah, I'm spending most of my time in the area now, what with this place and the bar," Chris stuck a French fry between his lips as if it was a cigarette.

"I might build my house around here," Linus mused. He'd lived in a variety of nice apartments in several towns over the previous few years, but wanted to live somewhere a little less urban. He had been on the lookout for a place to settle down for a while now. "When I've got a bit of time, I'll take a look around."

"What are you up to at the moment?" Chris asked idly.

"Complicated property deal." Linus shook his head at the memory. "Somehow I've ended up owning that piece of crap club by the beach, that way." He waved an arm southwards. "Do you know the one I mean? Dark, depressing, people only go in to pick someone up and then get the hell out."

"Yeah." Chris sounded thoughtful. "What will you do with it?"

"Sell it." Linus shrugged. "Why, are you interested?"

"Couldn't afford it," Chris said lightly, and the conversation moved on.

But two days later, Linus got a call; could they meet? "I've got a proposal to put to you."

They met at the club, which was as dingy and depressing as Linus remembered. Chris was already there when he arrived, sipping beer at the bar. "Hey."

"So, you want to buy this place?" Linus looked around.

"I do. But I can't afford to buy it and do it up. It needs gutting, top to bottom." Chris set things out squarely. "I'd like to buy a share in it. Half. You keep the other half, and we both invest in it and do it up. If all goes well, maybe I can buy you out in due course."

"This is not my thing," Linus protested. "I don't run clubs."

"No. It's _my _thing." Chris spread his hands out on the bar. "The potential is huge, Linus. You know how big the gay community is out this way, it's perfectly situated to attract the locals, right on the beach. It should get decent passing traffic too."

They talked about it for a while, Linus finding objections, Chris batting them back.

"I'll tell you what," Linus said finally. "You turn this into the kind of place I would actually want to spend time in, and bring friends to hang out , I'll do it."

"Done," said Chris.

"So, business out of the way, any likely talent in here?" Linus switched effortlessly from cerebral interest to something altogether more earthy. Paulo had moved on a little while ago, leaving Linus rather lonely.

"Nah." Chris took in their surroundings with practiced ease. "Nobody young enough for you. Nobody fit enough for me."

Linus laughed out loud. "Then let's go get another drink elsewhere."

They went to Chris's bar, where Linus sweet-talked a wide-eyed young man with a soft mouth into coming home with him. Meanwhile Chris got into a conversation with a couple of biker types, and went back to their motel room with them.

* * *

It took another year, but they built the club into a place to be proud of. With his fifty percent stake, Linus took a heavy interest, eager to create an environment he liked. There was such a vast amount to do, he ended up designing the upstairs bar while Chris concentrated on the downstairs.

They added a couple of offices behind that bar, but Linus declined the offer of one; he had office space elsewhere and didn't need it. "You take one, Chris, and give the other to your manager when you find a manager."

"I can manage it myself," Chris insisted. Linus shrugged and decided to let him find out he couldn't in his own time.

The opening night went better than Linus had dared hope. People came in droves, apparently curious. Chris had employed his college friend Jai as a bartender, and Jai ran the downstairs bar, welcoming everyone in. Linus settled himself upstairs in the private bar, and invited numerous friends and guests, including a young police officer called Ziggy who he'd met the previous week. Chris was everywhere, overseeing bouncers and bartenders, chefs and customers.

In fact, the only thing the evening lacked was a sexual payoff. Linus was so busy entertaining people that he forgot to identify a special someone to keep behind. Customers departed, then friends and employees, and Linus didn't become aware they were on their own until Chris closed the door after the last person left.

"We should celebrate!" Linus realized. "First night, one hundred percent success! Why didn't we keep some of those beautiful boys behind?"

"Because I don't want to lose my fucking license on day one!" Chris retorted. He leaned back against the door and rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm too tired to make the most of it anyway."

Linus pouted a bit. He had a hard-on, and it seemed like a terrible shame to waste it. Suddenly he wondered if this was the night to find out what Chris was actually like in bed.

He hardly stopped to think before coming right out with it. "Well, in the absence of anyone else, wanna fuck?"

Chris let out a snort that was part surprised, part incredulous. "Seriously?"

Linus shrugged, not wanting to push, but a little curious and also too horny to just back off. "If you want, yeah."

"Fine," Chris returned, quirking an eyebrow. "But who tops?"

"Ha." Linus was amused. They both favored that particular role. "Shall we toss a coin?"

"Shall we just jack off?" Chris was deadpan. "No, okay, you can top, I'm too tired to put the energy in."

They went upstairs to Chris's office. The only furniture there so far was a desk and an old armchair, which they sat down in only to find it wasn't really big enough. So they moved to the floor; where Chris simply yawned, closed his eyes and lay still as Linus removed some of his own clothes, and then some of Chris's outer layers of clothing. After a few minutes Linus said, only half-joking, "Chris, are you asleep?"

"Sorry." Chris roused himself, rubbing his eyes. He hoisted himself up onto his knees, turned around, reached down and undid his jeans, yanking them down to reveal his bare ass. Linus knew perfectly well what Chris looked like naked, had seen it a number of times close up but...it had never been so deeply unsexy before.

This was, Linus realized ruefully, a complete waste of time. Not only because they might ruin their friendship, business partnership, whatever; but also because at the end of the day they really only turned each other on when other men were in the mix.

So he sat back on his heels and declared, "Well I did have a hard-on once upon a time, but it's gone and it doesn't want to come back."

Chris snorted with laughter, pulled his pants back up, and hauled himself to his feet. "Let's have a glass of Scotch and forget this ever happened."

* * *

"And it traumatized us both so much we never tried again," Linus declared to the hundred-odd people hanging on his every word. "At least, not without someone else around," and the entire club clientele whooped and clapped.

It was speech time, and they had moved to the downstairs bar where all could join in. A slideshow was screening old photographs on the big screen TV, pictures of Chris and the club in days gone by. Chris was blushing and laughing in the middle of it all, surrounded by balloons and presents, with Brian at his side.

Linus, broadcasting his speech while standing on the counter, had luxuriated in the aunt anecdote and not skimped at all on the attempt at having sex. "And a week later, Chris went out and bought the couch which some of us know and love as the _casting couch_. I think Ferdinand may want to throw it out tomorrow, it's seen a lot of action over the years."

More whoops and applause. Linus wondered whether to give Chris the chance to speak, or just wrap things up himself. He glanced across at Chris, caught Brian's eye, and decided against the former; Chris was smiling and happy, but Linus could tell he was also choked up with emotion.

"The club continues, of course, and we all wish Ferdinand the very best of luck," Linus concluded. "But tonight is about Chris, who has given us all many years of fun and happiness running this place. We've all got stories we'd like to share, and the night lies before us to tell them. If you haven't already done so, do add them to the little book we've just given him. Thank you all very much for coming."

He took Raul's hand to balance as he stepped down from the bar, and joined Chris and Brian. House and Wilson were hovering nearby.

"That was great, Linus." Chris was very gruff. Brian curled a protective hand around Chris's shoulder.

"The pleasure was all mine, Chris," Linus responded, and looked around. "Where's the memory book gone?"

"Holy crap," said House, flicking pages. "Have you slept with _all _these men?"

END OF PART 2.

TBC. Next part: The party continues; we learn how Linus met Ravi.


	6. Chapter 6: Render Unto Caesar

**Title**: Render Unto Caesar: Chris and Linus, part 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Linus/Ravi  
**Beta**: the ever-awesome srsly_yes  
**  
****Summary**: Chris's retirement party continues at Linus's house. We learn more about Ravi, professional escort and gay porn actor, and how he met Linus and Chris way back in the day.  
**Excerpt**: _"I don't want that idiot Todd thinking that I bought his stupid wine because he bought me a rentboy," Linus complained_.

**Render Unto Caesar: Chris and Linus, part 3**

Linus strolled through his home, checking alcohol supplies were at acceptable levels. Chris's retirement party had moved to his place, along with everyone who mattered. Friends and acquaintances were scattered around, chatting in couches and chairs, bopping to music, and two Kittens were skinny dipping in the pool.

He was picking out a bottle of red wine from the party stock in the kitchen (not the best wine he had, of course, but still not bad because he could never tolerate mediocre wine) when a warm familiar voice said, "Hey," in his ear.

"Ravi!" Linus turned around with a beaming smile, and caught a quick smooch on the lips. "I hoped you'd made it-I saw you at the club, but then you vanished-"

"Had to go out to take a phone call," Ravi apologized. "A director about a shoot next week. But I came back in time to hear your speech. Awesome stuff." He hesitated a little. "Linus, there were two guys near you and Chris. A tall guy with a cane and his cute friend who looks a bit like-" his voice dropped a little at the next word- "Edward. I don't know their names, but I've met them before."

Linus was immediately fascinated. "And by _met _you mean?..."

"I mean had an awesomely hot threesome at a hospital benefit one time." Ravi grinned. "I was there doing my escort thing and kinda got distracted. They'd seen my movies. They're doctors, right?"

"Quite right. Do tell more!"

"That's about it, really. Don't know if they'd remember me." Ravi was modest.

"Ravi, you are always memorable!" Linus assured him. "Let's go find out."

They found House and Wilson in the living room, sprawling on the outskirts of a large group with Chris at its center. Brian was at his side, and Raul nearby. House was continuing to flick through Chris's retirement memory book, while Wilson peered over his shoulder.

Linus and Ravi drifted up to House and Wilson. As soon as they looked up, it was clear from their startled-deer expressions that they remembered Ravi alright.

"Well he-_llo_," Ravi drawled. "The Princeton doctors, right? Fancy seeing you here!"

Wilson looked embarrassed, House brazenly casual. "Might have known you'd know Chris and company. Guess you sex maniacs stick together," he growled.

"Small world," Ravi agreed solemnly.

"Ravi and I have known each other for many years," Linus remarked.

"Did you meet on a gay porn set?" House inquired. "Or did you hire his services?"

Linus and Ravi looked at each other and both smiled. "Someone hired him for me," Linus explained.

* * *

Linus was in New York for a few days on business, as happened fairly frequently. Among various meetings he'd scheduled was one with a guy called Todd who owned a vineyard out in California. He was asking if Linus would buy some wine and distribute it on the west coast. Linus sampled some of the most recent vintage and rather liked it, but was politely non-commital. "I'll think about it, get back to you in a few days."

The following day he had a call from Todd suggesting they meet for dinner. Linus was a little surprised, Todd was straight and married (and really very dull, in Linus's opinion), and had shown no previous sign of wanting to socialize. But in the absence of any other plans, Linus went along to the restaurant.

He found Todd sitting on the edge of a chair at a table for two, his coat on, obviously not staying. Opposite him sat a young man wearing a crisp white shirt without a tie. He had dark brown eyes and beautiful tawny skin, and was relaxed and smiling in his seat.

"Linus, I'd like you to meet Ravi." Todd jumped to his feet as Linus approached. "Ravi's a, uh, friend of mine, Linus. I thought you two might get along."

"I see." Linus did see.

"Why don't the two of you stay here, have drinks and dinner. The tab is on me," Todd said brightly as he stood up. "And think about the deal, Linus. Bye!"

Linus waved a disbelieving hand, and sat down opposite Ravi, who looked as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Well, this is a new one," Linus said thoughtfully. "I've been offered bribes before, but I've never had...an _escort _lined up for me."

"Why don't you just sit back and enjoy it," Ravi suggested, picking up a wine list.

"I don't want that idiot Todd thinking that I bought his stupid wine because he bought me a rentboy," Linus complained, then immediately softened at the twinkle in the dark eyes opposite. "No offense."

"None taken." Ravi smiled widely, showing perfect white teeth. "Don't think of it like that, Linus. Think of it as the opportunity to spend a pleasant evening with someone whose interest in you is guaranteed, rather than talking business all night. How about a bottle of claret?"

"Why not," Linus decided, and reached for the wine list. "Here, let me choose. If Todd's picking up the tab I intend to make him regret it."

He ordered, then sat back and pondered his unexpected companion. Todd must know him better than he'd realized, or had been lucky; Ravi was just Linus's type. Beautiful, exotic, and positively glowing with energy. Young, but not too young; about Chris's age, Linus guessed. A small diamond chip glistened in his left ear, and a thin gold chain was draped around his neck.

"So what's your duty as an escort?" Linus raised a suggestive eyebrow. "How far do you go for the price Todd's paid-first base? Second base? Third? Fully penetrative anal sex with simultaneous orgasm and-"

Ravi smirked. "Not included." Beat. "Unless _I_ want it to be included. But tell me about yourself, Linus. You're in the wine business?"

"Not exactly. I buy and sell wine, but lots of other things too. Land, property, rugs, anything." Linus waved an expansive arm. "I like wine though, so it feels like combining business with pleasure. I only buy the good stuff."

"Wine is a real pleasure of life," Ravi agreed. "Whiskey, too."

"Ah, I have a friend who's into whiskey. His name's Chris, he knows his Scotch single malts," Linus exclaimed. "We took a trip to Europe last year, and he insisted on going to Scotland so he could visit some remote distilleries. I went along to the first one, then left him to it and went back to Edinburgh to sample the selection in pubs instead."

"I would love to go to Europe some day." Ravi's enthusiasm seemed real. "Where else did you go?"

And conversation rolled easily on, ranging across England, France, Spain and Italy; covering art, culture, and history; haggis, black pudding and other international supposedly edible oddities. Ravi had traveled around India and southeast Asia, and Linus listened fascinated at tales of long train journeys, spicy exotic food, teeming cities and ancient monuments.

When they finally came to coffee at the end of the meal, Linus was reluctant to part from his fascinating new companion, but unsure what to suggest. He stretched a foot out underneath the table to rest against Ravi's leg.

"So I guess this is goodbye, if Todd's tab runs out here," he said as lightly as possible.

"I'm on my own time now." Ravi looked back at Linus, his almost black eyes like smoldering coals, and pressed his leg back against Linus's foot. "I'll tell him we parted here and you left in a good mood."

They went back to Linus's hotel room. Ravi took off his shirt while Linus was still locking the door behind them, and Linus turned around to see a handsome, gym-toned body; firm abs softly defined over a flat stomach, arms with gentle muscles sculpted to perfection. Never mind being an escort, Linus marveled; this young man could model for a living.

He understood a bit more about the escorting though, when Ravi dropped his pants to show a pert snub-nosed cock, clearly visible as he was neatly shaven all around. Linus practically fell over himself in his hurry to drop to his knees and touch, stroke, kiss and suck, _oh yeah_ that tasted good...

Ravi encouraged him with small, urgent tugs of his hair, but then stopped. "Not so fast... let's do something for you-"

Linus sat back on his heels, panting slightly, feeling his cock swelling in his pants, Ravi's heavenly musk on his tongue and up his nostrils. "Ravi, I would be most honored if you'd let me ravish that gorgeous ass of yours."

"The honor would be all mine," Ravi assured him.

* * *

The next day Linus woke in his hotel bed to find Ravi was gone. And although he supposed that wasn't surprising, it left him with a great feeling of melancholy.

There were things he had to do, people he had to see. But he didn't want to do any of them. He summoned room service for breakfast rather than go down to the restaurant. He delayed getting dressed, channel hopping on the TV instead. He then found it was mid-morning and he was just mooching around his hotel room in his underwear. He felt alarmed; this wasn't like him.

Wanting to talk, he picked up his cell and called Chris.

"Hey, Linus." Chris sounded breathless. "How's the Big Apple?"

"Tasty. Chris, I've met the most wonderful man! But have I called at a bad time?"

"No, no, I've just got back from jogging." There was a short pause in which Linus heard a tap running in the background, then loud glugging of water. "Go on, who is he?"

"His name's Ravi. About your age. Terribly good looking, beautiful skin, dark eyes, black hair, witty and intelligent, sex-mad-" Linus passed a dramatic hand over his eyes, ignoring the fact that Chris couldn't see him. "But..."

"I had a feeling there was a 'But' coming up." There was amusement in Chris's voice.

"He works as an escort," Linus confessed.

A shout of laughter came down the phone. "Fantastic!"

"I want to see him again," Linus found himself blurting out. "But I don't know how! I don't have a phone number, I don't even know his surname."

"He's an escort!" Chris pointed out. "Call his agency, make a date."

"Oh!" Somehow Linus hadn't thought of that. He felt silly and helpless. "Yes, I suppose I could. I'd need to find out the agency first."

"If he works for one. How did you meet?" Chris asked. "On a street corner?"

"No!" Linus was affronted. "Todd hired him for me, hoping I'd buy his wine in gratitude. And Ravi's an escort, not a hustler."

"Hey, don't get annoyed with me," Chris protested. "You had sex with this beautiful escort guy, right?"

"Well, yes." Linus found himself defensive. "But not because he'd been paid for it. He _wanted _to do it-"

"Of course he'd tell you that," Chris said in an exasperated tone.

And that honestly hadn't occurred to Linus, who felt realization as a cold shudder down his spine.

"Look, I have to go take a shower, I'm sweaty and disgusting," Chris broke into his thoughts. "Call me tomorrow, let me know what happens. Oh, I meant to tell you, I've got a new manager starting on trial at the club tonight. The guy you put me onto, Bob."

"Good! About time!" Linus clawed his attention with difficulty to this new topic. Chris had run the club personally for a year now, and it had been hard. Linus had stepped back from the enterprise, knowing this was Chris's baby and he needed to make it work on his own. Chris had made it work, but it was taking a toll on him. Managing the place was really a full-time job, and he had the steakhouse, the bar, and also a diner to keep an eye on.

Various potential managers had failed to make the cut. Linus had never met Bob, but he had come recommended by Julio, a friend of Linus's down in Florida who also ran bars and clubs.

"Give him a chance, Chris, don't be too quick to find fault."

"I've given him a month's trial, I'll let you know how it goes," Chris said, and ended the call.

Linus put the cell down and paced the floor for a while, pondering what Chris had said about Ravi. He was surprised by how much it bothered him.

In the end, there was only one thing to do. Linus swallowed his pride, gritted his teeth, and called Todd.

"Linus! How great to hear from you so soon!" Todd sounded most surprised. "I hope this means you're taking the wine-"

"I'm considering your offer most carefully, but need more time," Linus said firmly. "I was calling because I'd like to get in touch with the _friend _you so kindly introduced me to last night, and thought perhaps you could give me a phone number."

"Oh. Oh I see." Todd's voice filled with new meaning. "Well. Well, yes, I've got a number somewhere. I do hope you're considering the wine most seriously-"

"Most seriously, I can assure you." Linus closed his eyes and wondered if this was really worth it.

"Well, in that case..." Todd's voice positively dripped with suggestion as he read out a telephone number. Linus thanked him with as much dignity as he could muster, hung up, and dialled. A smooth female voice greeted him.

Linus put all the charm he could muster into his voice. "Hello, I met one of your staff last night over dinner and was wondering if I could arrange to meet him again. His name is Ravi, he was the most delightful company. I was hoping he might be free for dinner tonight?"

"Ravi's not often in New York, I'll have to check with him," the woman said, and Linus was surprised.

"He's not often in New York?"

"No, he doesn't live here," the woman said, and Linus felt duly chastened. He hadn't known that.

She called him back half an hour later to inform him that Ravi was available and would be delighted to see him again, any time, anywhere. Pleased to hear that, Linus suggested 8 PM at a top restaurant where he knew the maitre d' and would be certain to get a table.

He also heard how much this evening was going to cost him with barely a gulp, and provided his credit card number without quibble.

* * *

He spent the day doing useful things, including a long chatty visit to Aunt Liana. In the past he might have visited New York without bothering to go see her, but he had become increasingly aware recently that the last of his great-aunts might not be around much longer. He had once assumed that they would all go on forever, but Aunts DeeDee, Jayne and Maggie had slipped away over the last year, one by one. It was as if the sisters had some shared bond of life which grew weaker at the departure of each.

Aunt Liana was looking frail, but was out of bed, sitting in an armchair with a view over Central Park.

"It's my favorite nephew," she said as he joined her, a long-standing joke; he was her only nephew. "Where's Chris? Doesn't he have time to come see his favorite aunt?"

"Chris sends his love," Linus assured her. "He's seeing to business at his club, couldn't visit the City this time."

Linus had let his aunts carry on believing Chris was his boyfriend as it just made life much easier. Having found out Chris had no living relatives, they had proclaimed themselves in a body to be his aunt too. It was clearly a source of pleasure and satisfaction to them, and Linus was pleased that Aunts DeeDee, Jayne and Maggie had gone to their graves without being disabused of the notion.

Chris had borne his adopted aunts with good grace. He had accompanied Linus to all three funerals, and at the last, Linus and Chris had stood on either side of Aunt Liana to support her in the front row.

"Such a good boy," she said now. "You take good care of him. He's a keeper."

"I will," he promised, putting memories of the deep black eyes and translucent tawny skin awaiting him later from his mind. "Now, how are you, Aunt Liana?"

She claimed to be fine. He thought she looked feebler than he remembered, but didn't say so. On his way out Linus spoke to Hildegarde, his aunt's housekeeper-cum-companion, a middle-aged woman who had been with his aunt for years. He was assured that Aunt Liana's heart condition was the same as ever, the doctor seemed to think she was stable.

Linus found himself bathing and dressing with more than usual care as he prepared to go out that evening. At 8 PM, he was at the restaurant promptly only to find Ravi had beaten him there, and was sitting waiting looking even more demure and irresistible than the previous night. He was wearing the same diamond chip in his ear as yesterday, but a different chain around his neck; silver with a small pendant. Linus supposed that Ravi was given a lot of gifts in the course of work.

"Ravi, so glad you could make it." Linus slid into the chair opposite, admiring the coal-black eyes gazing at him.

"Linus, I was delighted to get your call," Ravi was quick to say. "Will you choose the wine?"

Dinner went swimmingly. Ravi asked what Linus had been up to today, and Linus told him about Aunt Liana, and somehow this grew into broader reminisces about his family life and his childhood with his battalion of aunts.

"I have a lot of aunts too," Ravi remarked. "My parents both had many brothers and sisters. I have four brothers and one sister myself."

"My word." Linus was entranced at this glimpse into a family so different from his own. "Do they know what you, um, do for a living?"

"Not exactly." Ravi fiddled with a fork. "They think I'm a model, and that's quite scandalous enough for them anyway. I did start out as a model, fashion photography for magazines, that kind of thing. A bit of catwalk, but I wasn't quite tall enough."

"I knew you had male model looks." Linus batted eyelashes. "How did you move into the escort business?"

"I was seduced by a photographer who suggested it." Ravi lowered dark eyelids in return.

Now that sounded like a story worth hearing. But suddenly Linus felt he had to know something quite different. "Ravi, did you have sex with me last night because Todd paid you to?"

Ravi sighed a little, then looked straight at Linus with a razor-sharp stare. "Todd gave me a very large tip and said he'd like me to do whatever you wanted me to do."

Chris was right. Linus felt a lump in his throat.

"But I still wouldn't have done it if_ I_ hadn't wanted to," Ravi continued. "I like you. I _wanted _to do it."

And Linus believed him. "I'm glad to know that." He remembered something else he wanted to know, and tried to sound idly curious. "The lady at your agency said you didn't live in New York?"

"I have a place in Brooklyn, but it's only a room, just somewhere to crash, really." Ravi hesitated, then went on, "I moved to California last year."

Linus blinked, assimilating this new information. "You live in California?"

"San Francisco," Ravi clarified. "I went there to pursue my..._other _career. I'm a gay porn actor."

Linus choked on his drink. "Really!"

"All the gay porn filmmakers are in California," Ravi explained. "I'm an East Coast boy, but I spend more time out West these days, just because that's where the work is."

"But you still...work here too?"

"I found I missed New York, so I try and come back here as often as I can," Ravi said simply. "Also, I have quite a few regular customers who ask for me. The agency tells me when I've got one who wants an appointment, and I come back if I possibly can. The fee is more than worth the plane fare, especially if I can see more than one on a visit."

"But you...prefer the porn to the escort work?" Linus was feeling his way. "As you moved to California for it."

"Not exactly. I do escort work in California, too. It pays better than porn." Ravi threw out a wry smile. "But then I am kinda new to the porn industry. Haven't really established myself yet."

Linus swallowed and asked, "Would I... have seen you in anything?"

"Maybe." Ravi dipped a coquettish eyebrow. "My last role was as a slave boy in this Roman empire movie, _Render Unto Caesar._ It wasn't a large part, but I had a sex scene."

"I would love to see it," Linus said with great sincerity. "Do you have a copy?"

"Not on me," Ravi laughed. "You can probably find one in a video store."

"Let's go find one," Linus decided. They finished their meal and left the restaurant in search of stores selling gay adult movies.

They found _Render Unto Caesar_ in the second place they tried and bore it back to Linus's hotel in triumph. Linus requested a VCR at reception; the receptionist glanced at Linus's payment record with them, and had one sent up to his room without argument. Linus and Ravi sprawled on the bed to enjoy the film.

"Ravioli?" Linus queried as the opening credits rolled.

"My screen name," Ravi explained, his bronzed cheeks going slightly pink.

The film had a flimsy plot designed to allow lots of men to walk around in senator's togas and centurion's uniforms, which could be readily lifted at will. The set ("The director's living room," Ravi remarked) was all faux-velvet drapes, chaises longues, and columns that looked like they were made of polystyrene.

"What's it like seeing yourself on film, knowing everyone else who sees you is jerking off?" Linus inquired.

"It's not something I think about that much," Ravi deadpanned.

Ravi, clad in not much more than a loincloth, was present in much of the film standing still and mute at the side of the room, ready to serve platters of grapes or amphoras of wine when needed, or otherwise watch the master of the house fucking whoever came to visit him.

"Ringside view you've got there," Linus remarked, easing Ravi's pants down to expose pert bare ass.

"Ringside view you've got yourself," Ravi shot back, cheeky in more ways than one.

Linus was soon atop Ravi doggy style, sheathed and sliding in harmony with the man in a laurel wreath on the screen.

"You might-want to-save yourself," Ravi warned, his voice jolting with each of Linus's thrusts. "I get-my scene-in a minute."

Linus eased back, nibbling on Ravi's delicate earlobes and nuzzling his fragrant neck. The next scene was indeed worth the wait. The master of the house was out when a centurion arrived to see him. The centurion sat down to wait, and immediately bored, summoned the slave boy on the sidelines with the crook of a finger and lifted his skirt.

"Fuck, yes," Linus said with enthusiasm, watching Ravi fellate the soldier with consummate ease.

"Keep watching," Ravi murmured, arching his back a little. Linus rubbed his cock against Ravi's ass-crack, keeping himself hard.

The centurion pulled back from his blow job, and beckoned to Ravi to step out of his loincloth and bend over the bench. Before long he was fucking Ravi, not particularly gently; in and out, his hands on Ravi's hips, while Ravi shut his eyes and gasped and moaned.

Linus readied himself to ease back inside, but Ravi said, "Wait-it gets better-"

And whoa, Linus promptly found out what he meant. The senator arrived back, all annoyed swishing toga, to find the centurion rutting with his slave boy in the middle of his atrium. He stepped out of the toga to join in, and instead of offering his cock to Ravi's mouth as Linus expected, he came to stand alongside the centurion at Ravi's ass.

The centurion pulled out briefly, the two lined up and went back in together.

"Double penetration, oh my stars!" Linus moaned, fucking Ravi up the ass right there along with the centurion and the senator. Ravi arched his back, letting Linus go deep, deep until he thought surely that beautiful body beneath him would break, but no. Ravi took every fraction of an inch Linus could give and then the glorious explosion that followed.

Ravi waited until Linus was quite spent before carefully pulling away and reaching for his own hard-on. Linus reached out with a shaky paw to assist, and Ravi spilled over onto his fist within a couple of minutes.

* * *

Linus was on his back in bed ready to sink into blissful post-orgasmic sleep when his cell vibrated on the nightstand. He picked it up, ready to ignore 99% of callers, only to find it was one he wouldn't ignore. "Chris?"

"Linus!" Chris's voice was high and agitated. "He's locked me in my office!"

"What? Who?" Linus was foggy.

"Bob! The new manager!"

Linus hauled himself out of bed as quietly as he could and tiptoed towards the bathroom. The room was dark, and Linus tripped over his shoes on the way. "Bob locked you in your office? Why?"

"He said...he said he'd had enough of trying to work with me looking over his shoulder, and he'd do better without me up his ass the whole time." There was a short pause. "The latter metaphorically, of course."

"Of course." Linus closed the bathroom door behind him, decided not to turn on the light, and pondered for a few seconds. "Chris, if you were really worried for yourself or for the club you would be on to 911 by now, and not wasting time calling me. So, you're not really worried. Bob is trying to show you the world will not collapse without you around, and you know that he's right. You just need to vent."

"Yeah." Deep breathing. "But I don't like being locked in. Distract me. Did you manage to meet your beautiful escort again?"

"I did. I'm in love, Chris," Linus said earnestly.

Skepticism rang loud and clear in the snort. "You're always in love."

"This is real, Chris. But..."

"I knew there was another _but _coming."

"He's not just an escort, he's a gay porn star."

There was a brief silence, then a roar of laughter. "Okay, you have successfully distracted me."

"And he lives in California most of the time," Linus said mournfully.

Chris chortled. "Linus, you are the limit. Do introduce me to him sometime. If I ever get out of this office."

"I will see if I can pay him enough to fly to New Jersey," Linus declared, and they hung up with mutual affectionate goodbyes.

He opened the bathroom door to find Ravi sitting up on the bed, naked in the half-light, hugging his knees to his chest. Suddenly Linus remembered that the bathroom door was not that thick; he'd spoken quite loudly just then, had Ravi heard what he'd said?

"You don't need to give me any money," Ravi said, straight up.

Linus felt color rise in his cheeks. "Ravi..."

"You don't need to give me any money, because I would like to be your friend," Ravi continued.

Friend, good. But not boyfriend. Linus couldn't suppress a spasm of disappointment.

"I'm not boyfriend material," Ravi apparently read Linus's mind. "I've tried it before, it doesn't work, really it doesn't. But I do_ friends with benefits_ really well. I would love to come visit you where you live, and meet Chris and your other friends. I would love you to come visit me in San Francisco."

And at that moment Linus realized how different Ravi was from the likes of Enzo and Paulo. Ravi was that bit older, independent, knew what he wanted to do with his life. There was no way Ravi would come and live with him on the Jersey coast, and drift and not work, or get some little local job; he belonged in a big city, using his great body and considerable charm, doing what he was good at.

"Friends with benefits sounds good," Linus said sincerely, and he came over to get back into bed, snuggling under the covers. "Stay with me."

"I'm not used to staying the night," Ravi said with a small laugh, but he settled down again on the bed.

Linus decided as he drifted off to sleep that he might buy that wine after all. Just because it was good wine, no other reason.

* * *

He woke when his cell vibrated again. Linus squinted into sunlight, turned to check that Ravi was still slumbering peacefully beside him, then looked at the caller ID. It was another number that he hesitated to ignore; Aunt Liana.

"Hey," he rumbled into the phone, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, peering at the clock. Nine-thirty.

"Linus," an agitated high-pitched voice replied, and Linus woke fully immediately. That wasn't Aunt Liana, it was Hildegarde.

"Hil?"

"Linus, I just came in, the curtains were all drawn, she hadn't gotten up. I went into her bedroom and...Linus, I can't wake her up, she's cold..."

No. _No_. Alarm coursed through Linus's body. Not again. Not Aunt Liana, the last of the aunts...

"Linus, I think she's dead," Hil went on with a loud sob in her voice, and Linus sucked in a horrified breath.

"Hil, call a doctor," Linus managed to croak. "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

He'd gotten up while speaking, and clicked off the phone to find himself standing in the middle of the room wearing only boxer shorts, while the man he'd hired for company yesterday was sitting up in bed looking at him through surprised sleepy eyes.

Linus was dimly aware that he had to be strong, had to be responsible, but he had no idea what to do next.

* * *

Ravi was a pillar of support. It was entirely thanks to him that Linus managed to get dressed in clean clothes, instead of the garments thrown down on the floor the night before, and leave the room with his shirt buttoned up correctly. The news had left Linus dazed, as if he'd been hit on the head; everything was numb and as they traveled across town by cab, scenery rolled past in slow motion.

They arrived at Aunt Liana's apartment to find Hildegarde sitting in the living room with an elderly man Linus vaguely recognized as a doctor and neighbor who lived in the same building, two floors up.

"Linus," Hil said, rising to greet him. Her face was tear-stained and her posture hunched.

"Hil." Linus clasped her hand.

It was clear from their startled expressions that neither Hildegarde nor the doctor knew how to react to Ravi, who walked in a pace behind Linus. Ravi was wearing yesterday's clothes (meaning he really hadn't planned to stay the night, Linus registered on a distant level) but still managed to look fresh. His exotic looks were completely out of place in the small, fussy apartment.

"This is my friend Ravi," Linus explained briefly, not caring what they thought. "Hil-is she-"

"I'm sorry," Hil said.

That was all that needed to be said, but the doctor added, "She died peacefully in her sleep during the night. Heart failure, she had a heart condition as we know. My commiserations."

Linus nodded dumbly and went into the bedroom. Aunt Liana lay there under the covers, eyes closed, her face chalk-white. She looked incredibly frail.

And suddenly tears welled in his eyes, leaked out, and he started to sob. Grief swept in and took up his entire being, leaving no room for anything else, no rationality, no calm thoughts about practical steps to take. Just overwhelming angry sorrow that the last of the aunts had gone. It was as if he hadn't let himself mourn properly after the deaths of Aunts DeeDee, Maggie and Jayne at all; instead he'd bottled it up, and it was all coming out now.

He felt strong, comforting arms around him, and turned to bury his face in Ravi's shoulder.

Some time later, Linus had calmed enough to go and sit in the living room with Hildegarde, but could hardly speak. He sat on the edge of a chair, cold to his bones and shivering slightly, while Ravi had a brief conversation with Hil about funeral homes. He wondered what on earth Ravi must make of all this. He couldn't possibly have banked on this when he'd accepted the dinner invitation last night.

Then his cell vibrated in his pocket. Linus almost ignored it, but found himself fishing it out anyway: Chris. He hit the button to answer, but couldn't say anything.

"Linus!" Chris's voice reverberated with cheerful ignorance. "I've found my manager! Bob's the man...Linus? Are you there?"

"Chris," Linus whispered.

"Linus, are you okay?" Alarm rang sharply through Chris's voice.

Linus closed his eyes, but two fat tears squeezed out from under his eyelids anyway. His throat was thick and overgrown, and his fingers trembled as they clenched on the handset.

Then soft fingers took the phone gently from him. "Chris, this is Ravi," a smooth voice said, and Linus was grateful. "I'm with Linus at his aunt's house. I'm afraid there was bad news this morning, she's passed on."

A brief conversation later, Ravi hung up and said, "He's coming to town. He says he has to drop by the steakhouse but he'll leave right after, he'll be here in four hours."

Silly Chris, wasting his time, it wasn't necessary. But Linus felt some relief seep into his soul.

* * *

The funeral home turned up to take the body away very promptly, and the doctor and Hildegarde departed soon after, leaving Linus and Ravi hanging around the apartment and having coffee with callers. News had spread through the apartment building via the doorman that old Miss Liana had died and her nephew was in town, and folk kept knocking on the door to offer condolences.

A couple from down the hallway whom Linus vaguely knew popped in in the late afternoon. The Smiths were art dealers and Linus had almost bought a painting from them once. He knew they hoped they might get business from him in the future.

"So sorry for your loss," Mrs Smith said.

"She was a great old lady," Mr Smith said. "We thought she'd go on forever."

They chatted politely for a few minutes before Mr Smith brought up the reason they'd evidently come. "We assume you'll inherit, Linus, and were wondering if you would sell this place or live here?"

The fuckers. Aunt Liana was barely cold. What appallingly bad taste. He could tell from the way Ravi's fingers tightened on his arm that Ravi thought the same.

Linus swallowed revulsion and tried to be polite. "Sell it." The reaction was a gut one. He had always liked the idea of having a New York apartment, actually, but not this one. It was way too much Aunt Liana's to contemplate.

"Ah," said Mr Smith, and Linus detected a touch of relief. "Well, we do hope you find a suitable buyer who respects the building. We can recommend a good real estate agent."

So they didn't want old Miss Liana's riotous gay nephew down the hall from them. Linus wondered what the Smiths would say if he chose to live there. He guessed his penchant for all-male parties with lots of drink and drugs and sex to go round wouldn't go down too well. They were looking at Ravi as if he was some kind of alien life form.

At that point there was a knock on the door, which then opened; Chris was there. Linus tottered to his feet to be caught by Chris in a bear hug. He and Chris rarely touched beyond handshakes and back claps, but just for a few seconds Linus clung to his friend and let the warmth relieve his misery.

Chris eased Linus down onto a chair and looked around the room. He barely glanced at the Smiths; his gaze fell upon Ravi.

"You must be Ravi. Thanks for staying with him," Chris said, his voice quiet and flat, and he put an envelope into Ravi's hand. "I'll take it from here."

Ravi looked surprised, then incredulous. He pushed the envelope back at Chris. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm his friend."

"What the fuck! You met him two days ago, when you were paid for it!" Chris barked. "And when he wanted to see you last night he had to hire you!"

There was a small gasp from Mr Smith, and Mrs Smith looked agog.

"Boys, please," Linus managed to gasp through a throat hoarse with hours of pain.

Chris and Ravi glared at each other for a minute, then Ravi broke eye contact and turned towards Linus. "If you want me to go, I'll go."

Linus did not want Ravi to leave; did not want to lose the physical contact and tender intimacy that was such a comfort. Chris could not give him that.

"Stay," Linus mumbled, just loud enough for Chris to hear.

* * *

From that inauspicious start, things got better. The Smiths departed (and Linus was sure they could dine out for years on the anecdotes they had so inadvertently supplied). They went back to the hotel, where Chris checked himself in to a room down the corridor from Linus, and then they all settled themselves in Linus's room with room service dinner and a bottle of bourbon.

Linus had no appetite, but the others ate well, clearly ravenous from lack of earlier eating opportunities that day. Chris sprawled in an armchair, while Linus curled up on the bed under Ravi's protective arm and numbed himself with whisky. He found himself reminiscing about life with his four aunts. Chris and Ravi were good listeners and indulged him.

Eventually, late in the evening Chris announced he had to go to bed, and as he hauled himself to his feet he picked up _Render Unto Caesar_ from a side table. "What's this?"

"This is Ravi's fifteen minutes of fame," Linus explained. He watched Chris remember what he'd been told last night and comprehend.

"Whoa!" Chris said with a smile.

"You can borrow it," Linus added. "I know you'll enjoy it. In other circumstances I would have suggested we all watch it together."

Ravi chuckled under his breath.

"In fact take it now," Linus said, with an expansive sweep of arm. "And the VCR. Knock yourself out."

"Maybe I will." Chris unplugged the VCR and put it under his arm. Linus staggered to his feet to accompany Chris to the door; Ravi stayed tactfully on the bed.

"Thank-you for coming, Chris," Linus murmured quietly, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"No problem." Chris glanced across the room at Ravi, and muttered under his breath in Linus's ear, "He is gorgeous. And I'm glad he was here for you."

* * *

"Did you buy Todd's wine, Linus?" Wilson asked.

"I did." Linus was a little shamefaced. "It _was _good wine."

"Did you go back to your hotel room and watch_ Render Unto Caesar_, Chris?" House inquired with interest.

"I did." Chris looked similarly sheepish. "It was fun. Passed the time."

"Never saw that one." House pondered. "I think the first porn flick of yours we saw, Ravi, was some other historical epic. You played a visiting prince from afar. _King Arthur Takes His Knights Over the Round Table_, or something."

"Ah, you mean _They Came-a-lot_," Ravi exclaimed. "That was fun. Although all my scenes were in the director's living room. The shots of knights on horseback and so on were completely spliced in afterward, we never filmed anything like that."

"Well it's very easy for that kind of thing to happen," Wilson said, deadpan.

"Be not afraid," House replied solemnly.

Linus sensed an in-joke, but decided not to inquire.

**END OF PART 3**

TBC. Next part: Linus remembers the time he experimented with monogamy, quite the strangest sexual practice he ever tried.

**A/N**: Ravi previously met House and Wilson in Blowjob on the Balcony.  



	7. Chapter 7: The Monogamy Agreement

**Title**: The Monogamy Agreement: Linus and Chris, part 4  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Linus/OMC, Chris/Linus friendship, House/Wilson  
**Beta**: srsly_yes was really instrumental in shaping this one.

**Summary**: Linus meets a man who inspires him to experiment with monogamy, the strangest sexual practice he's ever tried.

**The Monogamy Agreement: Linus and Chris, part 4**

Linus was very pleased with how the party was going. Chris was relaxed and mellow and the center of attention, while people were having fun but not out of control. A number of Kittens were now skinny dipping in the pool, and Linus had high hopes of them remaining naked once they got out.

"Bathroom door's jammed upstairs." Raul dropped down onto the beanbag next to Linus's chair. "People having sex inside, from the sound of it."

"How inconsiderate of them to shut themselves away," Linus grumbled. "I do hope we get to join in later on."

"You," House said, pointing a finger at Raul. "Does this kind of stuff not really get on your last nerve? Do you not get pissed off with him ogling other men and fucking around all the time?"

Linus was amused, and waited with interest to see what Raul would say.

"It's just how it is," Raul said simply. "I wouldn't want Linus to be anything he isn't. And it's not like he sneaks off behind my back."

"Au contraire, I prefer Raul to be right there with me," Linus said with a wink.

"Yeah, but..." House rolled his eyes and waved a hand. "You don't feel the urge to cut off his dick and feed it to the fishes?"

"I used to say that Chris was missing a jealousy gene," Wilson remarked. "Linus, too."

"Oh, Chris has a jealousy gene," Brian murmured. "But it's selective."

Chris shot Brian a wry look.

Linus grinned, knowing Brian was referring to Ethan, then remembered a pertinent fact. "I was in a monogamous relationship once, you know."

"So you were! I had completely forgotten," Chris marveled. "The Greek guy, right? I'd just bought my first Harley."

"Now I had forgotten that. But yes, you're right," Linus nodded.

* * *

Linus knew Chris had made it in life when he turned up at Linus's apartment one day on a new motorcycle. Linus knew nothing about such things, but he could see this huge gleaming metal monster was a very different beast from the old Honda.

"I assume this is a Harley Davidson," Linus said, pronouncing the words as if in a difficult foreign language. It had long been Chris's aim to afford one by the time he was twenty-five.

Chris patted the shining metalwork lovingly. "It sure is."

"Congratulations! Although it looks...uncomfortable," Linus declared. "Those handlebars! So far apart! And just look at the size of that seat. You could have sex on that."

"Not on the upholstery!" Chris objected, an appalled look on his face. "Anyway, do you want a ride? I've got a spare helmet."

Linus acquiesced, more out of curiosity than any real desire, and clung on rather precariously during the drive down to the steakhouse.

"So apart from giant motorcycles, what's new with you?" Linus asked over a steak sandwich.

"Turned down another offer on the diner." Chris chewed on a fry. A multinational corporation wanted to buy his beloved diner, so they could knock down the block it was on and build something else; Chris was resisting. "And Bob's hired a new weekend bartender at the club, so we're not as short staffed as we were. That's it, really. How's your house coming on?"

"Slowly," Linus said mournfully. "I can't believe how much time it takes to make so little progress."

Having come into a cumulative inheritance from all four of his great-aunts a couple of years before, a modest but not insignificant nest-egg, Linus had decided to fulfill a long-held dream and commission his own custom-built house. He had found a nice spot by the New Jersey shore, not far from the ocean. An architect had done drawings of a large and elaborate residence, which had after a long-drawn-out process eventually obtained the necessary planning permits. Linus was now thinking the permits might prove to be the easy bit.

"And almost nothing happened while I was away," Linus added.

"You were away?" Chris sounded vaguely surprised.

"I've been in the White Mountains for a few days," Linus reminded him. "I went to Elf's commitment ceremony."

Elf was a former fellow student from his MBA days, a woman with long curly hair and strong opinions, with whom he had a long and harmonious friendship. Linus worked for himself and had always been resistant to the idea of going into an office each day, but he had found it expedient to have a professional base for paperwork and a meeting area he could commandeer when he wanted. His solution was to negotiate a corner of office space from Elf, who owned a small CPA firm in New Brunswick. He paid Elf a generous fee and got to piggy-back on the firm's admin and facilities in return.

"Oh yeah!" Chris nodded. "How was it?"

"Very lovely, actually." Linus was pensive. "Elf was always a real player at college, but she and her girlfriend seem very happy together now, and quite content. I suppose it's a matter of meeting The One."

The noise Chris made might have been described as a skeptical grunt. "What happens at a commitment ceremony, anyway?"

"Very like a wedding really, vows, rings, everything." Linus had been to a few such in his time. "I chatted to the officiant for a while at the reception-nice guy. Australian—calls himself a celebrant. He does a lot of these ceremonies over there, apparently. He said he looks forward to the day he gets put out of work because anyone can marry anyone they want to."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen in our lifetime." Chris spoke with the lightness of someone who couldn't imagine himself being affected.

"You never know." Linus sighed a little, remembering Elf's radiant smile. "The ceremony was very touching, especially the vows, which they wrote themselves, of course."

"Talking of commitment, I met Gavin the other day-him and his new boyfriend have bought a dog together," Chris remarked. "It must be serious. His name's Dean. The boyfriend, not the dog."

"What kind of dog?"

"Small yappy thing. It was in a basket, they were cooing over it." Chris's tone was a touch disdainful.

"I remember Paulo suggesting we get a dog." Linus was wistful. "I said no because we traveled so much, it wouldn't have been fair. The dear boy would have loved it, but imagine if I'd been left with a dog now. I couldn't go on this Greek trip of mine tomorrow, for a start."

"Oh yeah, the olive oil place?"

"That's right." Linus had bought a share in a Greek olive farm some time ago after meeting its owners, the formidable Mr. and Mrs. Kyriacou, in New York. The olive oil they produced was superb quality and Linus had been smitten by the extra virgin with added chili. They had invited him out to visit whenever he wanted, and he had finally made time to accept.

"I'm hiring a boat for a few days, sailing along the Greek coast," Linus explained. "I'll be stopping at the port nearest the olive farm and taking a trip inland to see it. Then I'm off to Mykonos for a few days of fun." Mykonos was a very gay-friendly Greek island, and he and Chris had partied hard there on a tour of Europe before.

"I'm sure the sailing will be fun too," Chris said, sounding a little envious.

* * *

The port nearest the olive farm was small, not much more than a fishing village. Linus approached in his cabin cruiser on a beautiful morning and stopped some way short of the harbor entrance, turning the engine off and taking some time just to lie on the deck in the sun. Ah, _this_ was the life.

His attention was caught by a fishing boat nearby, heading back to port. A net appeared to be tangled at the back. Linus picked up binoculars to see what was happening. The boat had a couple of grizzled old fishermen on it, and a younger man.

The younger man stepped up onto the deck where he was clearly visible, and Linus's breath caught in admiration; what a beautiful boy! He was bare chested and wearing only a ragged pair of shorts.

"Baby, come to papa!" Linus muttered to himself, angling the binoculars to get a better view of firm thighs and bronzed skin that shimmered in the sun. He wondered how old the man was; twenty-one perhaps, maybe twenty-two.

As Linus watched, the young man dived neatly off the boat into the sea. He surfaced a few seconds later at the back of the boat, untangled the net, then clambered aboard again. Linus whistled to himself as he watched the man climb the ladder, his tight ass clearly defined by the wet shorts now clinging to him. What a perfect specimen of a man; gorgeous youth and vigor, slender and agile, but also muscled and strong.

The fishing boat sailed on. Linus lay on deck for a while longer, imagining that ass without pants, grinding atop him.

Eventually he sailed into port himself. There were no hotels in the vicinity, but he had been told that the local taverna let out a couple of attic rooms to visitors. It was at the center of the village and easy to find, an ancient building made of gnarled wood and crumbling stone. Linus negotiated a price for a couple of nights with the surly tavern keeper (and was glad he was able to say the Olive Farm Kyriacous had sent him, he was sure the invisible Rich Dumb American supplement would have been much higher than it was otherwise).

* * *

The Kyriacous picked him up by car the next morning, and took him to visit the olive farm. Linus had been well informed about acreage and soil fertility levels before he had made the investment, but was pleased to see it in person; he always liked to see where his money was going. Mr. and Mrs. Kyriacou made him welcome, although scolded him for coming in summer, the wrong time of year; he should have come during harvest time. He spent an enjoyable day being shown around the groves, tasting the full range of delicious oils produced, and sampling bulbous black and gleaming green olives from fat jars.

He was on his own wandering through olive trees mid-afternoon, when he suddenly stopped short at the sight of a young man some twenty yards ahead of him. The man was strolling nonchalantly across the grove, walking with an easy, fluid movement.

It was the young man Linus had seen on the boat the day before. Linus was sure of it.

He was clad more conventionally now, in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. Linus could see his face more clearly now; with soft dark hair, burnished chestnut eyes, and smooth skin with a healthy sheen, he might have been designed by Linus as the perfect mate.

Their eyes met, and Linus beamed in greeting. The young man hesitated for a second, then to Linus's delight, smiled back. Then he stepped between olive trees, and was gone.

Linus stood still for a minute, as if moving would wake him up from a beautiful dream, then the spell broke. Linus scurried forward, but to no avail, the man had gone. Had he just imagined all that?

"I saw a young man walking in the groves earlier," he remarked over a splendid dinner of delicious homemade _stifados _with the Kyriacous,the stew tender and simmered to perfection. "I wondered who it might be-he didn't look like a farm worker? White shirt, black jeans-"

"That is our nephew Dimitri," Mr. Kyriacou said immediately. "He works on a fishing boat, but sometimes he helps out here too. He is studying accounting at night, we hope he will come and do the books for the farm in future. You should have said hello to him, he would have liked to practice his English on you. He would love to visit America some day and see his cousins in Boston."

_Dimitri_. Linus savored the name all the way back to the taverna, to his cozy bedroom with a slanted ceiling. That night he snuggled down among handcrafted quilts, and reveled in having a name to put to the face rocking gently above him.

* * *

The following morning, Linus awoke in alarm to a high-pitched wailing sound. Clad in T-shirt and shorts, he scrambled out of bed and down the stairs to find smoke billowing around the restaurant. The kitchen door was shut but the alarm was clearly sounding from within.

"_Fotia! _Fire!" the tavern keeper cried, ushering him outside.

As far as Linus could gather from the excited conversations around him, a pan had caught fire and set light to a dishcloth. Both had been isolated in a sink, and it was hoped the fire would not spread.

A few minutes later, a siren joined the din as a fire truck arrived. Two firemen got out, an older bearded man striding ahead and a younger clean-shaven man following, and headed toward the taverna. Linus peered at the younger man's face under the yellow helmet, always eager to admire a handsome fire fighter, then goggled in disbelief; it was Dimitri!

Fate was obviously knocking on his door, had knocked three times. Linus was not going to let him get away this time.

The firemen emerged from the taverna a few minutes later, all smiles; the fire had not spread, it was out, everything was okay. The older fire fighter summoned the tavern keeper to the kitchen to show him the damage. The younger one walked back toward the truck, and Linus seized his chance to follow.

_"Kalimera," _he said, promptly exhausting his limited Greek vocabulary and switching to English. "You are Dimitri, I believe?"

The young man stopped and tipped back his fireman's helmet a little to look at Linus. His shy and demure smile absolutely sealed his fate as an object of Linus's desire. "Hello. Yes, I am Dimitri. I saw you yesterday at the olive farm, with my aunt and uncle."

"That's right." Linus was delighted to be recognized. He hit the handsome young man with the most charming smile in his repertoire. "They said we should talk English together, Dimitri. What a beautiful name you have, by the way."

Dimitri colored very slightly under his bronzed skin, and Linus dared hope that this young man might actually be receptive to his overtures.

"Thank you. It means 'follower of Demeter', the goddess of the harvest," he explained.

"Fascinating," Linus said stoutly, mentally peeling the fire fighter's jacket off the silky smooth back he knew lay within. "Perhaps we could talk some more today? Are you out on the fishing boat, or at the olive farm, or do you need to fight some fires?"

"I'm a volunteer fireman, I have to be on standby at certain times, but I am just finishing that shift now." Dimitri looked at his watch. "Today is my study day." Linus remembered the accounting. "But I would prefer to practice my English, while you are here."

"I have a boat," Linus said, gesturing towards the sea. "Maybe you would like to sail with me, you can show me the coastline around here, we could bring some lunch with us, and we can talk while we sail?"

* * *

It was a glorious day at sea in every regard. They sailed along the coast for a while, Dimitri guiding them to a pleasant spot some way away, where they stopped for a picnic lunch and opened a bottle of ouzo.

Linus found Dimitri modest, charming and polite. Linus chatted about his business interests, his determination to always work for himself, the house he was building, his trips around the world, his friends and his family, the four formidable aunts who had brought him up. Dimitri was bright and interested and asked lots of questions.

Dimitri had studied English at college, and was now learning accounting by correspondence course while earning money whatever way he could. He spoke with enthusiasm about helping to manage the olive farm in the future. He was full of questions about life in America, about New York, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building.

"Your uncle and aunt said you would like to visit the United States one day?" Linus asked.

"That would be wonderful." Dimitri smiled and looked at the deck. "I have another aunt and uncle and cousins in Boston whom I have not seen for many years."

Linus pondered that while keeping an eye fixed very firmly on Dimitri's cheekbones. He really was terribly attractive. His eyes were warm and his hair enticingly lush and thick. His lips were cherry red and his tongue flickered out in concentration as he nibbled on a stuffed grape leaf. Linus imagined that soft mouth closing around his cock, and it took all his self-control to stop himself reaching across the table and grabbing the beautiful young man by the hair.

"How long are you staying here, Linus?" Dimitri broke into his thoughts.

"Oh, a couple of days, probably." Linus hadn't finalized anything. "I thought I'd enjoy some peace and quiet, then go some place a bit more lively."

"You prefer lively?" Dimitri asked.

"I can be quite the party animal," Linus confessed, and talked for a while about his social life in New Jersey. He spoke of his good friends, Chris, Ziggy, Ravi, and referred carelessly to sexual partners, making his own orientation clear.

"Ravi's one of my dearest friends, I would love to see him more often but he lives three thousand miles away from me, in San Francisco." Linus sighed a little. "He has to live there because he's a gay porn actor, and that's where they make those films."

Dimitri's eyebrows rose a little, but he smiled, and Linus felt able to broach more sensitive subjects. "Is it not a little _too_ peaceful and quiet around here, Dimitri? Do you have to go far to find some…friendly company?"

Dimitri acknowledged his meaning with a rueful smile that made Linus's heart start to thump against his chest, and gave impetus to the semi hard-on he had been nursing all day. "It is difficult sometimes, yes."

"Does anyone know?" Linus was blunt. He did not want to unwittingly out this young man to his aunt and uncle.

"It is not a secret, but it is not something I or anyone else talk about." Dimitri shrugged. "I got beaten up a lot at school." He looked at his watch. "Shall we move on?"

Linus, who had also had the crap kicked out of him at school on numerous occasions, felt a wave of protective sympathy. He stretched a hand toward Dimitri. "Let's stay here."

Dimitri looked up and down and all around for a moment, before he nodded.

* * *

Seagulls screamed and the sea breeze whistled outside, as below deck, they embraced and kissed for the longest time. It was just perfect, exploring those soft tender lips and feeling smooth warm skin. Eventually Linus started to disrobe, and Dimitri followed suit, diffidently exposing paler skin on his chest and hips than his tanned arms and shoulders exposed to the sun.

Oh God what a beautiful ass. Linus marveled at the outline before him as Dimitri lifted a leg to shake off his pants, then turned to reveal a proud erection which Linus reached to grasp and roll. Dimitri's eyes swiveled in their sockets before closing.

"Sit down," Linus murmured, and Dimitri dropped down onto a seat without opening his eyes. Linus knelt before him and reverently took the perfect, uncut cock into his mouth, listening to the slap of waves outside as he tasted salt and heavenly musk, reveling in the strangled gasps above his head.

He felt a hand in his hair, fingers blindly flexing, then a sharp push backward. Linus pulled away just in time to have Dimitri moan, "_Thaa-ay moo,_" and spurt onto his chest.

Dimitri fell flat on his back on the seat. Linus crawled up to sit next to him, stroking that perfect skin, pressing his own hard-on against Dimitri's trembling thigh.

After a minute, Dimitri whispered, "Do you have…protection?"

"I do." Linus was grateful for the small square foil in his wallet.

"Then…fuck me….please. If you want to."

"My dear Dimitri, I've wanted to from the moment I saw you."

They moved to the floor, feeling the primeval movement of the sea beneath them. The boat rocked gently as Linus spent a while feeling that beautiful ass, probing with first one finger, then another, causing Dimitri to writhe and squirm, until he was sure he was ready. Then he groped for the wallet in his jacket, pooled on the floor nearby, and sheathed up.

He came to kneel above Dimitri, arching the young man's legs high in the air.. Waves splashed on the sides of the boat as he thrust, keeping his own body as close to Dimitri's shuddering chest as he could, reveling in the sweat and heavy breaths and clenching. He made it last as long as he possibly could, but the thrill of being inside this perfect body was too much to hold off for long. He came with a cry of "_Dimitri…Dimitri,"_ feeling strong fingers grabbing as his arms as he collapsed on top of Dimitri in a heap.

After some time in silent, gratified exhaustion, they began to talk. They lay in semi-darkness, bobbing on water but safely cocooned in the boat, as Dimitri spoke haltingly of love found among vines and olives and sun and sea. Of discovering a new world away at college, with dark haired natives with names like Petros and Spiro.

In return, Linus shared more of himself, dwelling a little on the loves of his life, and expounding more on his lifestyle. "I had a boyfriend called Paulo once, who looked a bit like you, he was Portuguese...before that there was Enzo, he was Italian. Enzo was sex mad, couldn't get laid enough, I used to adore watching him...Paulo was shyer, but he did have a thing for my good friend Chris, which I loved to indulge..."

Dimitri looked a little shocked at this, but not outraged or disgusted, and Linus was encouraged to continue. He suddenly wanted very badly to share his life with Dimitri, to have more than a couple of days in the company of this very beautiful and charming young man.

"Come to America with me," Linus urged. "Come for a long vacation, visit your relatives, stay with me, I'll pay for everything. If you like it, we can figure out a way for you to stay. You will like it, I'm sure. And my friends will love you."

Dimitri screwed up his face into contortions. "Linus, I cannot tell you how much I would like to go to America! It is my dream come true!" And then he plastered an apologetic look across his face. "But I don't think I can."

"You don't?" Linus was dismayed.

"How can I explain?" Dimitri threw an arm above his head. "Please don't be offended, Linus. But I do not want to have sex with your friends."

Linus spluttered on his own saliva and choked. Dimitri reached to pat him on the back, looking alarmed. Linus wiped his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, firmly parked the flippant reply _but you haven't even met them yet_ and said, "My darling Dimitri, I am not trying to peddle you around to my friends! I just want to be with you."

"I understand that." Dimitri's cheeks were flushed pink. "But that is the kind of world you live in, and I don't think I can be part of that world. I don't like going to parties and clubs, and all the, um, casual sex that goes with that."

Of all the young attractive men Linus might have hoped to encounter on this trip, he had to fall for one who didn't like his lifestyle. "I'm a great one for open relationships because I believe in people doing whatever they want to. All out in the open, no deception, nobody pretending anything that isn't true."

"But I don't think I could be with you if I knew you were going to be with other men." The sincerity in Dimitri's tone amazed Linus.

"My dear Dimitri." Linus reached out to touch Dimitri lightly on the arm, feeling a tingle in his groin as he did so. "I've never been in an exclusive relationship-"

"Have you ever _tried_?" Dimitri asked.

Linus opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Actually, no."

"Then why don't you try?" Dimitri urged. "For me?"

And that was how Linus found himself signing up to the Monogamy Agreement.

* * *

It went swimmingly well for the first few weeks. Dimitri explained solemnly to his family and friends that his new friend Linus had invited him to visit the United States, and they all urged him to make the most of this once in a lifetime opportunity. If Mr. and Mrs. Kyriacou wondered about their nubile young nephew being swept off his feet by their bighearted, strong-willed, openly gay business partner, they didn't say anything.

Linus never did make it to Mykonos, being too busy accompanying Dimitri to get a US tourist visa, helping him pack and organizing flights home for them both. He also felt virtuous in staying away and thus avoiding any sexual temptation he might have had there.

Once they got to the USA, Linus delighted in taking the wide-eyed Dimitri on a whirlwind sightseeing tour along the east coast, starting in New York with all the big attractions. It was awesome. It felt really couple-y. Linus worked in a few business meetings along the way, while Dimitri, who had packed his accounting books, did some studying in quiet moments.

They ended up in Boston, where Linus left Dimitri in the bosom of his extended family and politely declined an offer to stay with them. He had his own personal reasons for not wanting to hang around his old college town. "No, I must get back to New Jersey, have to do some work there, and give my contractors a kick in the ass."

He said farewell to Dimitri in a brief moment outside his family's home before getting into the airport shuttle. "Do come and join me when you can."

"A week, give me a week," Dimitri murmured, clasping Linus's hand.

"I'll wait for you," Linus said, his voice clear and quiet but full of meaning.

"I am very happy about that,' Dimitri said with equal simplicity.

END OF PART 4

TBC. Next part: Linus struggles with monogamy. Chris has an admirer. All written and will be posted very shortly.


	8. Chapter 8: The Emotional Monogamist

**Title**: The Emotional Monogamist: Linus and Chris, part 5  
**Author**:hwshipper  
**Characters**: Linus/Dimitri, Chris/OMC, Chris/Linus friendship, House/Wilson  
**Beta**: thanks be to srsly_yes

**Summary**: Linus has fallen for Dimitri and is trying to cope with monogamy, the strangest sexual practice he's ever tried. Meanwhile Chris has an admirer.

**The Emotional Monogamist: Linus and Chris, part 5**

Back home, with Dimitri away in Boston, Linus was immediately lonely and glum. The Dimitri-shaped hole in the bed was horrible and the lack of his smiling, cheerful company and wide-eyed enthusiasm even worse. Construction on the house had not progressed, needless to say, and there seemed to be a mountain of paperwork to deal with.

On his second day home Linus met Ziggy for their regular golf game, and they were joined by Chris. Chris was not a big a golf fan as they were, but liked to play on occasion.

"The word on the street is that you're back from Europe with a new boyfriend," Ziggy remarked as they strolled towards the first hole.

"I have," Linus admitted. "His name is Dimitri."

"Let's guess what he's like," Chris suggested. "Young?"

"Dark eyes, dark hair?" Ziggy joined in.

"All of the above," Linus confirmed. Ziggy prepared to tee off. Linus watched Ziggy line up the shot, then added in an offhand manner, "We're in a monogamous relationship."

Ziggy's club slipped and clipped the ball at a sharp angle. "Hey! That's not fair!"

"He's into _monogamy_?" Chris asked, pronouncing it as if this was quite the weirdest sexual fetish he'd ever heard of.

"I'm afraid so."

"And you agreed?" Ziggy was incredulous. "Just how good is this guy?"

"He must be the best lay you ever had," Chris surmised, his gray eyes darkening with an interest that was altogether too carnal for Linus's liking. "Wanna share?"

"Now now," Linus said crossly. "No touchy-touchy, Chris. Monogamous, remember."

"Him, yeah, whatever. You?" Chris's voice rose in amused disbelief.

"I give it two weeks," said Ziggy.

"What the fuck! Can't you give me a little more credit for self-control than that?" Linus demanded.

Chris mimed holding a phone. "Ring ring. Ring ring."

Linus glared, but couldn't quite resist playing along. "Yes? Hello?"

"Linus, it's Ravi," Chris mimicked Ravi's low, mellow voice with semi-accuracy. "I'm coming to visit and I'm bringing an advance copy of my new movie to preview with you! It's called_ Robin Hood Gets Merry With His Men_ and I get to wear tights-"

"Enough!" Linus commanded, as Ziggy doubled up with laughter. "Ravi is very busy right now snorting cocaine off film producers' chests, probably, and not planning to visit anytime soon. And if he did, I would tell him I'm in a loving committed relationship which I intend to respect!"

Somehow that made them laugh even more.

* * *

Over dinner in the clubhouse after the game, Linus found his friends more conciliatory.

"Look, I hope it works out," Ziggy said, dunking a tortilla chip in salsa. "I'm sure he's a great guy."

"Thank you." Linus was pleased the teasing had eased up.

"Maybe it's not such a stretch after all. Thing is, Linus, you might have lots of sex, but you've always been emotionally monogamous," Ziggy suggested, and Linus was surprised.

"Now that's a new one on me," Chris declared. "Emotionally monogamous?"

Ziggy carried on, "I mean, you always have a boyfriend, Linus. You always really throw yourself into relationships. You invite them into your life, you let them live with you, you act like they're the love of your life and it's gonna be forever, even if it isn't. Open relationships, but still relationships, and you never worry about what anyone thinks."

"This is true," Linus agreed, and Chris nodded.

"Whereas _you_," Ziggy pointed at Chris with a fork, "are the opposite extreme. You have lots of sex, but nobody ever gets close enough to you to so much as dream of being your boyfriend. And if they did you'd push them off a cliff before anyone thought they might be."

"This is not about me!" Chris protested indignantly, but Linus was amused. In all the time Linus had known Chris, he couldn't think of a single sexual partner Chris had that might be termed a relationship.

"So we're the opposite ends of the promiscuity spectrum?" Linus asked.

"Kind of," said Ziggy.

"And where do you fit into that?" Chris challenged.

"I'm not on the promiscuity spectrum," Ziggy said firmly, and Linus wasn't about to object to that. Nor did Chris. Ziggy was a good deal more discreet and private about his sex life than either of them. Of course he was a career cop who put up with a lot of crap in his life that they didn't have to deal with.

"It's probably not that big a deal," Linus rationalized, as a waiter delivered their main courses. "Monogamy, after all, is the societal norm. Look at all the married couples out there. There must be a whole new level of satisfaction to be found in being with the same person, the right person."

"There can be," Ziggy agreed.

Chris didn't look convinced, then arched a suggestive eyebrow. Linus glanced up at the waiter to find the man in the neat white shirt looking really rather like Dimitri. Dark, exotic, young, a small tendril of chest hair peeping even above that high collar, hmm. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Hey Linus, you can't hit anything like that ever again," Chris muttered, a little too loudly, as the waiter walked away.

"Shut up," Linus hissed back. "Anyway, he's probably straight."

"That's not my vibe." Ziggy joined in the fun. "I pulled in a very cute youngster the other day for soliciting, you know. He offered me a blow job in the squad room to let him off. I resisted, of course. You'd have had a harder time-"

"Will you both please stop!" Linus put his hands over his ears. "Change the subject, please!"

Chris and Ziggy both grinned, then Ziggy snapped his fingers, apparently remembering something. "Chris, did you know one of your bar staff's got a thing for you?"

Chris raised both eyebrows. "Who?"

"Can't remember his name. New guy on the downstairs bar on Friday and Saturday nights, thin, short spiky hair, earring," Ziggy outlined.

"That's Alex, or is it Alec?" Chris wrinkled his brow. "Why do you say that? Bob hired him recently, I've hardly even said hello to him."

"Jai told me," Ziggy said. "Alec, that's his name. Apparently you walked in the door on his first night in your biking gear, and he fell in lust on the spot. Must get a hard-on for the leatherboy look."

Chris grinned complacently. "A lot of people do."

* * *

Linus went to the club the following night, curious to see this new bartender with a thing for leather. He found Chris sitting down one end of the downstairs bar, wearing leather pants and a brown leather vest over a white T-shirt, basking in the care and attention of a skinny young spiky-haired bartender.

"Hey." Linus joined him, and the bartender, Alec, was there in an instant. "I'll have a glass of red wine, please, the Grenache, I think…"

"Sure," Alec said. The glass was there in a trice, generously filled, and Chris's Scotch was also topped up. Chris always received good service in his own club, of course, but he hadn't so much as raised a eyebrow this time.

Alec moved off to serve another customer and Linus eyed his ass from sideways on. Tight jeans, shapely, hmm, not bad, not bad at all.

"I'm so getting some of that tonight," Chris said with some satisfaction.

"You shouldn't do your staff," Linus warned. "It's never a good idea."

"My dick says otherwise," Chris countered, and Linus decided it would be a waste of time to argue.

"Hey, there's someone you should meet," Chris went on, and waved across the room. Linus looked around to see a couple of guys from Chris's gym, plus a young man he didn't recognize. The young man was tall and muscled with glowing skin like extra virgin olive oil, and dark hair and deep brown eyes...Linus gulped a little.

The newcomer headed across to them, and Chris beamed hugely at Linus.

"Linus, I was at the gym this afternoon and met Kaito here, he's a new personal trainer. I thought he should come see the club. Kaito, this is Linus."

"Pleased to meet you." Kaito smiled and held out a hand. "Hey, you're the Big Guy! Chris was telling me all about you! You're having your own house custom-built, right? My neighbor is doing that and he's had no end of trouble with planning permits…"

Several moments passed, the subject moving effortlessly from houses to wine to vacations in Greece, and it became obvious that given half a chance, Kaito would never shut up. He kept batting eyelashes, too, and might as well have had a sign around his neck that said _Available_.

In other circumstances, Linus might have found this combination of easy chatter and youthful good looks rather winning. As it was, Linus kept a rather sickly smile aimed at Kaito while shooting sideways glowers at Chris, who kept beaming back while resuming flirting with Alec.

Linus gritted his teeth; Chris had done this deliberately._ Bastard_. Well, Linus was not about to succumb to temptation, if only not to give Chris the satisfaction.

He managed a few polite words with Kaito, then backed off gracefully. Kaito went back to the gym guys with good grace (having pressed his phone number on Linus; "Call me any time, big guy, if you know what I mean.")

* * *

Later on that night Linus overheard Chris say to Jai, who was also bartending that evening, "Jai, you don't mind if I borrow Alec for a few minutes, do you? I want to show him my Harley."

Jai scowled, but was obviously unwilling to challenge the club owner directly. "You know we're short-handed. Bob won't like it."

"Bob doesn't like it, he can speak to me." Chris headed out of the bar, Alec close behind.

Ten minutes later, they weren't back. Linus gave in to curiosity and went outside to the parking lot. He knew Chris was in the habit of parking around the back in a nook he could see from his office window. Linus paused a short way away, hearing gasps and a rattling sound, then inched forward to see what was happening.

Alec was spread-eagled across the Harley on his back, naked from the waist down, legs wide, head tipped back to one side. Chris was atop, also having lost his pants, grasping the handlebars while he thrust and ground into Alec's body. The bike shook, but was apparently sturdy enough to take the stress. Looked like Chris had decided to screw the upholstery after all.

Linus watched, aware of his own rapidly developing erection, and wondered momentarily whether to go and join in. Chris wouldn't mind and it didn't look like Alec would protest at anything Chris wanted... _no, no, no! _Linus reprimanded himself. This was not a gangbang, the boy was obsessed by Chris, and anyway, Linus was in a monogamous relationship, right?

Chris came a minute later, deep inside Alec, and lay sprawled across him panting for a couple of minutes.

"I suppose I should go back to work," Alec said eventually with a nervous laugh, and moved to pull his clothes back on.

Chris hauled on his own pants, then sat back on the bike and produced a packet of cigarettes from a pocket. "Bob's not gonna fire you."

"No, well, even so." Alec shook his head at the cigarette offer. Chris shrugged and lit up. Alec lingered for a few seconds, but as Chris didn't respond, he added, "See you later then," and walked off.

Linus stayed still as Alec walked past a few feet away, and waited to give him enough time to get around the corner and back inside. He then emerged from the shadows and headed towards Chris.

"Hey." Chris took Linus's arrival in stride, and proffered the cigarettes. "Enjoy the show? You should have joined us."

"Just because that poor boy has an inexplicable yen for you is no reason for me to take advantage." Linus took a cigarette and the moral high ground.

Chris snorted. "He _wanted _to be taken advantage of. He came while I was still prepping him, did you see? One finger up his ass and he came all over his own chest."

"Lovely." Linus's tone was sarcastic. "Chris, what are you playing at? He works for you! He has to go back to work in that bar now looking frankly completely fucked, with everyone knowing the boss just screwed him outside. You can't put him in that position!"

"And yet I did! I gave him what he wanted. What he was begging for," Chris shot back. "You're just jealous because you're bound to Mr. Monogamy. How is that going, anyway?"

Linus threw up his hands and left, heading straight for his car.

* * *

"I got something to show you," Chris said on the phone the following afternoon, a Saturday.

Linus was automatically suspicious. "I'm not investing in any of your enterprises at the moment. Not while this wretched house is draining away all my money."

"No, it's nothing like that," Chris promised, and Linus allowed himself to be picked up by car. He didn't trust the Harley (quite apart from the knowledge of how it had been used).

Chris drove up the coast to an area populated by students that Linus knew a little from his younger days. They turned off towards the shore and arrived at a parking lot by a beach.

They got out of the car, and Linus stared around in disbelief. The beach was populated almost entirely by young men. Young men with burnished skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Sitting half-naked on the sand, playing beach volleyball, splashing in the ocean.

"What is this? Where are we?"

Chris grinned and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. "This is the local Gay Student Society summer outing."

"You've got to be joking." Linus knew he was slack-jawed, but quite unable to rectify the situation.

"Nope." Chris stared around and tilted the shades. "Right, I'm off to get laid."

"You utter _bastard_!" Linus practically shouted.

Chris sauntered off, while Linus sat in the car, not trusting himself to mingle with so many beautiful men. He sat for a while until his feeling of annoyance at Chris faded and was replaced with an intense sadness for himself.

Eventually he got out and went to find Chris, who had taken off his shirt and was sunbathing in the company of a pair of handsome young guys. "Chris, gimme your car keys, I'm going home."

Linus had no doubt Chris could find an alternative way of getting home, and Chris obviously didn't doubt it either, as he fished out his keys without argument and tossed them to Linus.

"Don't you want to stay?" asked one of the young guys, with a smirk and suggestive raised brow.

_I would love to._ "I'm afraid I can't," Linus said, and left quickly before he changed his mind.

* * *

He visited the club that night to find Alec at the bar, looking forlorn. Linus collared Jai for a chat and was indignant to find that his own disappearance the previous evening had been noticed, and the staff at the club had blithely assumed he had gone to join in the fun.

"Gotta say, the state of Alec when he came back in, you had to see it," Jai said jovially. "Dazed, confused, huge smile on his face that wouldn't go away, even when Bob read him the riot act...And he couldn't sit down for the rest of the evening, if you know what I mean."

"I fear I probably do."

Jai shrugged. "Well, we just all assumed you and Chris had been plowing him good."

"Just Chris, I can assure you," Linus said coldly. "But dear Alec is not looking so happy now?"

"Think he was hoping Chris might come by, or phone him, or something." Jai, who knew Chris of old, looked knowing. "Not gonna happen."

"I fear so," Linus agreed, thinking of the afternoon at the beach.

Linus moved along the bar to talk to Alec. "My dear boy, I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name is Linus."

"Chris's friend, right, yeah." Alec shook hands, his head bobbing up and down vigorously. "I'm Alec. Good to meet you. Say, you don't know if he might be coming here tonight, do you?"

"I've no idea," Linus admitted. "He's very much his own man, you know. Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, Alec?"

They chatted for a little while, Alec periodically breaking off to serve customers. Linus learned that Alec was working an apprenticeship in the building construction trade, and enjoyed it but was perennially short of cash, hence the need to work nights.

And then Chris walked in the door, and Linus and Jai swiveled their heads simultaneously to see Alec brighten up immediately.

Chris refrained from pulling Alec out from behind the bar this time (it was busy, they really were short-staffed, and Linus suspected Bob had been reading Chris the riot act, too; not that that would stop Chris doing it if he _really_ wanted to). But at the end of the evening Alec hurried to leave as soon as the shift was up, and Chris was lingering by the front door, obviously waiting for him.

Linus shot narrowed eyes at Chris as he headed out of the door himself._ I know what you're doing._

Chris looked back with amusement, and muttered, "The gas station, if you want to watch."

Linus didn't reply, but when he got to his car, he found himself heading off in that direction. There was a local gas station which was a notorious cruising spot, and the overgrown area nearby was a favorite hangout for people in need of somewhere to go. Linus had a pretty good idea where Chris would head on the Harley.

He got there, parked in a discreet area under a tree, and Chris and Alec duly turned up five minutes later on the Harley. Chris gave Linus's car one glance, then ignored it; Alec didn't seem to notice it at all in his hurry to strip.

Linus leaned on his steering wheel and watched Chris take Alec over the Harley, doggy-style, this time; Alec grasping handle bars, Chris covering him. From his angle, Linus could barely see Alec and it looked almost like Chris was fucking the motorcycle. And for all that Chris cared about the young man squirming beneath him, Linus reflected, he might as well be.

Not knowing whether to be more disappointed in Chris or himself, Linus pulled away before they finished, wanting to deal with his own considerable hard-on but thinking he would get home first. As he passed the gas station, he slowed at the sight of a skinny youth loitering to one side, who looked straight at him. They made eye contact, and Linus knew perfectly well that if he stopped the car right there, he could get swift, satisfying relief; a blowjob perhaps, maybe even a good hard ass-fuck over the hood—

Dimitri's face floated into his consciousness, and he put his foot down hard on the accelerator.

* * *

Three days later, Dimitri arrived from Boston. Linus was so delighted to see him again he hardly knew what to do. They had a spectacular sexual reunification which made Linus almost forget about Kaito (whose phone number he had inexplicably not thrown away), the gas station hustler, and the gay student society.

Almost.

"Darling Dimitri, I've missed you so much," he found himself mumbling as they lay in bed in a post-orgasmic stupor. "A week without you is just far too long."

Dimitri considered this for a minute, then mumbled back, "Without me, or without sex?"

"Without you." But Linus's natural truthfulness found its way out. "_And_ without sex. I mean, the two are the same now, are they not. Inseparable."

"Don't tell me you haven't so much as looked at another man," Dimitri said, laughing a little.

Linus opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again, for once in his life not knowing what to say. With any previous boyfriend ever he would have shared, told about Kaito and the gas station hustler and the gay student society... with Dimitri, he didn't feel able to.

"It's all right," Dimitri said hurriedly, seeing Linus was stymied. "Looking, I mean. It's fine, I don't mind!"

But it wasn't fine. The fact was, even though Linus had been faithful, he didn't actually _feel _like he had. Indeed, he rather thought that if he was asked to take a lie detector test, he would fail. Ugh, this was ghastly. Why was having Dimitri not enough? Linus thought about Elf and her girlfriend, Gavin and Dean and their yappy little dog in the basket. Had they gone through anything like this when they'd made their commitment?

* * *

Linus woke the following morning and in the mellow period between sleep and full wakefulness, decided the thing to do was to integrate Dimitri into his life properly.

"I thought perhaps I could introduce you to Chris today?" he suggested over breakfast, a little apprehensive in case Dimitri suspected some sexual shenanigans was being proposed.

"I would love to meet all your friends," Dimitri assured him.

Linus duly called Chris and arranged for them all to have dinner at the steakhouse that evening; a nice non-threatening situation. He and Dimitri then spent the day at the docks and out on a boat, Linus eager to show Dimitri the New Jersey coast. The weather was fine and they had a good time sailing..

They were at home late that afternoon getting ready to go to the steakhouse, when the doorbell rang. Linus answered and to his enormous surprise, he found Alec there, leaning on the doorframe, looking tired.

"Alec, my dear boy!" Linus wondered how he'd found out where he lived. He supposed it wasn't exactly a state secret. "Um-do come in."

"Thank you." Alec stumbled as he came into the living room.

"Alec, let me introduce you to my darling Dimitri, who's over here from Greece. Dimitri, this is Alec, he-um-works at Chris's club."

Alec and Dimitri exchanged nods, then Alec turned to Linus and said imploringly, "Linus, do you have any idea where he is tonight?"

"He's at the steakhouse. We're on our way to have dinner with him." Linus absolutely did not want Alec tagging along with them and hoped sincerely that Dimitri didn't pipe up and invite him.

"Oh." Alec sighed, and swayed a little on his feet. "I didn't know that. I don't want to interrupt. Maybe I'll come along later and see if I can see him."

"You do that," Linus said politely.

"Alec, are you okay?" Dimitri asked, and didn't wait for an answer before gently taking Alec by the hand and sitting him down on the couch.

"I'm fine, really I am. Just haven't eaten much today," Alec muttered. "Not hungry. Can't stop thinking about...stuff."

The lovesick fool. Linus blew out a breath of frustration, and went to help Dimitri, who had gone straight to the kitchen. Linus wasn't a great one for cooking, and didn't keep much food in the house, but Dimitri managed to unearth a can of soup and heated it up. Alec first protested he didn't want it, then proceeded to eat every last drop.

Meanwhile Linus found a bottle of brandy and pouring a small glass for Alec. It helped put some color back in his cheeks.

"You do look better now," Dimitri observed as Alec put down the soup spoon down.

"Thank you, that was great," Alec said with obvious sincerity. Dimitri smiled, pleased, then dropped his eyelids. It occurred to Linus apropos of nothing that Alec and Dimitri were about the same age.

Alec, however, had not been more than momentarily distracted from his obsession. "Linus, you know Chris better than anyone. How do I get him to notice me?"

Dimitri picked up the empty bowl and headed toward the kitchen, tactfully giving them some space, although he could obviously still hear everything.

Linus went for whimsical. "Bend over and drop your pants."

Alec thumped a fist into a palm in frustration. "I don't mean like that! I know _that_. I mean... how do I get him to notice me as a person?"

"You want him to notice you as a person? Then try and be his friend. And don't let him fuck you." Linus kept it simple.

Alec covered his eyes. "I _want _him to fuck me! I'd just like to be able to have conversations with him too, go out for dinner, to the movies, that kind of thing. Like, maybe go round to his place sometimes instead of always doing it on the Harley-"

"Chris doesn't have a proper home, he lives in the most ghastly hole of a rental apartment ever, Alec, no furniture to speak of, you're missing nothing," Linus interjected.

"I'd just like him to let me into his life a little! I'd like to be with him in that apartment, whatever it's like."

"What you want, Alec, is a relationship," Linus intoned. "And that is quite possibly the scariest word in the English language for our Chris. Apart from _commitment_, perhaps. You've picked the wrong guy."

"Then what do I do?" Alec asked forlornly, and Linus had no answer.

* * *

Dinner at the steakhouse was warm and cozy and friendly. They had the prime table by the window overlooking the ocean, and the steaks were as excellent as they always were. Linus knew Chris would have primed the chef to give them the absolute best cuts.

Chris was doing his best friendly easy-going guy impression, and Linus could see him taking care not to do anything that might be interpreted as a come-on by Dimitri. They chatted about Greece and olive oil and running restaurants, and it was all very civilized.

Linus waited until Dimitri had gone to the bathroom, then took the opportunity to bring up what was on his mind. He leaned across the table, and said, "You have to stop fucking Alec."

Chris stared. "What the fuck? Where did that come from?"

"He's in love with you," Linus said, and Chris tensed visibly.

"Fuck off."

"I'm serious," Linus insisted. "He came to see me this afternoon and he followed us here afterward, he's outside right now pining for you. He can't say no to you, but you have to say no to him. You can't give him a relationship, which is what he really wants. You're breaking his heart."

Chris shut his eyes briefly, then said, "You have to break up with Dimitri."

"What?" Linus was completely taken aback.

"You can't give him what he wants, either." Chris was blunt. "Sneaking around watching people fucking is not compatible with your monogamy thing. If you don't tell him first, you'll fall off the wagon sooner or later, and break his heart, too. He's a nice guy and he deserves better."

And Linus felt a tightening in his chest, and knew Chris was right.

* * *

As they left the steakhouse and walked across the parking lot, a man sitting on a low stone wall jumped down, and headed past them into the building. Alec, waiting for his chance to see Chris. Linus hoped Chris would do the right thing.

Speaking of which... there was no point delaying. Linus had never bottled things up before and saw no reason to start now. He sat down on the wall, and Dimitri sat next to him, looking a trifle surprised.

"I can't do this exclusivity thing. I just can't, Dimitri," Linus found the words tumbling out. "I'm so very sorry. I am trying very hard, but I can't stop looking, I know I won't be able to keep it up, and I have to tell you now before you come home one day and find me in bed with someone else… I don't want to hurt you like that."

As Linus spoke, he realized he had hardly ever broken up with anyone before. Men always left him, not the other way around, although rarely with any ill-feeling. Relationships usually worked their way to a natural breaking point, and they would bid him farewell and go on their way.

"It's funny, Ziggy told me recently I was an _emotional monogamist,_" Linus added. "He meant I was always emotionally faithful to my partners, even while physically not. But now I've found that while I'm being physically monogamous, I can't get into that emotional mindset. It feels like I'm on a see-saw; it can be one or the other. But not both."

"Thank you for telling me." Dimitri's eyes swam with sadness.

"This doesn't have to change anything," Linus hastened to go on. "You can still stay with me, as long as you want-"

"I don't think that would be a good idea." Dimitri sighed.

At that moment a door banged loudly, and they looked up to see Alec, with swollen eyes and miserable pinched cheeks. Looked like Chris had managed to break up with him after all.

He walked up to them with his hands in his pockets. "I feel so fucking stupid."

"Don't be silly," Linus said firmly. "This is not your fault.'

"I guess I'll go home and get hammered," Alec said dully, and looked around for his car. "Unless you want to come for a drink with me?"

"I will come with you for a drink," Dimitri said, to Linus's enormous surprise, and he got up from the wall.

Later, Linus called that evening the Great Break-up Night, although Chris denied indignantly that he and Alec had ever been a couple and therefore could not have broken up. "I just told him we shouldn't fuck around anymore. Since when is that _breaking up_?"

* * *

"That is such a Hollywood happy ending," House did a major eye-roll. "Idiot Alec and Dopey Dimitri went riding off into the sunset together?"

"They did indeed." Linus beamed at the memory. "They consoled each other over a drink, and got together a week later. Alec left the club, of course, and he went to visit Greece with Dimitri. I was so pleased."

"Are they here tonight?" Wilson asked.

"No, they rode off into the Greek sunset and never came back," Linus said rather sadly.

"It's great to hear all these early life stories about Chris," Wilson confided. Chris had stopped listening to Linus reminisce a while back, and was lying a few feet away on the couch, chatting away to Brian and Ravi. Wilson carried on, "I mean, I knew a bit about his background and so on, but it's so weird to hear about his days playing the field!"

"He's always played the field," House objected.

Wilson shook his head. "By the time we met him he'd fallen in love, he'd been in a relationship, so I didn't think of him as being a commitment-phobe. It's funny, but I never wondered about his life before he met Edward."

It was Wilson's bad luck that the conversation level around them dipped as he got to his last sentence, and the word _Edward_ reverberated around the room.

Everyone looked at Wilson, whose cheeks turned fiery red, and then everybody looked at Chris.

"It's cool," Chris said awkwardly waving an arm, and people returned to their conversations.

"Chris, I'm sorry," Wilson muttered.

"It's okay," Chris insisted. "No, seriously. If we're reminiscing, let's talk about Edward for a while. I'm sure Linus has some stories."

END OF PART 5. TBC.

Next part: Linus remembers Chris and Edward's early rocky relationship.


	9. Chapter 9: Supernova

**Title**: Supernova: Linus and Chris, part 6  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters/Pairings**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, Linus/Edward  
**Beta**: srsly_yes, srsly awesome  
**Warning**: reference to past dub-con and non-con, possibly triggery. Please do not read if this might disturb you.  
**A/N**: The story of Chris and Edward is told from Chris's POV in a long fic beginning with The House That Edward Built (see profile for link). This part parallels parts 1-3 of that fic.

**Summary**: Linus remembers when Chris fell in love with Edward, and how Linus bonded with Edward in a slightly different way.  
**Excerpt**: _Chris tapped Linus on the shoulder and said, a little huskily, "Don't forget to give him back afterwards."_

**Supernova: Linus and Chris, part 6  
**  
So they'd gotten to Edward in this grand recap of their earlier life. Linus had known they were bound to get here, and he felt a twinge of pain in his chest as memories surfaced.

"But who is Edward?" a Kitten asked.

Who indeed! Chris seemed to have gone dumb, and Linus sighed a little, gearing up for reply.

Brian piped up unexpectedly first. "Edward was Chris's life partner."

Chris reached out and gave Brian's arm a squeeze. Linus grasped Raul's hand, feeling the need to connect with his own life partner.

"He looked a bit like Wilson here," House remembered. "But with glasses. Dorky. Stupid floppy hair."

"Edward was the most beautiful, charming person ever," Linus contributed. "I was very happy that I was the one who introduced him to Chris. Kind of."

* * *

"I need an architect," Chris declared over lunch with Linus at the steakhouse one day. "I've found the perfect plot of land by the ocean and I'm ready to build my dream home."

Chris had recently sold his diner to a multinational corporation who intended to knock down the entire block it was on to build a giant drive-thru. He had held out until their offer was several times what the place was intrinsically worth, and now had enough money to build his own house.

"I've got a builder and a project manager, but I need someone to design it," Chris continued. "Can you recommend an architect? I know people who can design restaurants and bars, of course, but I'd like someone who specializes in domestic houses."

"Don't use my guy." Linus had had his own house custom-built. It took forever and cost a fortune. "Tell you what, Elf was very pleased with the architect who did her extension, and it does look very nice now. I'm going to her office tomorrow, I'll get the name."

* * *

"His name's Edward," Elf said, flicking through the Rolodex on her desk. "Nice guy. Young, enthusiastic."

"Good looking?" Linus said hopefully.

"Straight, sorry. At least, I wasn't sure, but turned out he's engaged to be married." Elf kept flipping. "More importantly, he designed a mean conservatory for me. I really felt he listened and tried to create what I wanted, instead of creating what _he_ wanted."

"Very important," Linus agreed. "Or you end up like me, with an unnecessarily enormous wedding cake of a house."

"Really, Linus, you know you're not fooling anyone when you complain about your OTT house," Elf said briskly. "You love it! -Ah, here we are."

She extracted a card between stubby purple fingernails, and flicked it across to Linus.

* * *

Chris was smitten with Edward the Architect from the start. It was written all over his face whenever Linus asked about progress with the house. Large, starstruck eyes; goofy, self-conscious smiles directed at the floor.

At first, remembering what Elf had said, Linus merely hoped his friend would get over it and move on. Then it became clear that the feeling was mutual, that the married Edward apparently batted for the other side too, and everything changed.

Linus had never seen _Chris in love_ before. It was really very entertaining. The roving eye stilled and focused; the commitment phobia vanished into thin air, replaced by an intent, dogged devotion. Chris started to drop Edward's name into conversations with the smallest excuse; he seemed to have trouble concentrating for long without daydreaming.

"Chris, are you with me?" Linus snapped his fingers in front of Chris's face one evening. They were in the private bar at the club and Chris appeared to have slipped into a happy trance.

Chris jumped in surprise. "What?"

"Beautiful architects on your mind again?" Linus rolled his eyes and put some archness in his voice. "You should fall in love more often, Chris, it makes you a most interesting conversationalist."

"Speak for yourself," Chris said peevishly.

Linus's current Significant Other was a very charming if slightly arrogant young man called Philippe, who had perfectly chiseled features like a statue of a Roman God. "Philippe may let me worship at his feet occasionally, but I don't turn into a drooling idiot."

_"Fuck off,_" Chris growled.

"Maybe if you let me meet the Edible Edward I'll understand your obsession!" Linus took the opportunity to press.

"You'll try and jump him," Chris objected, not for the first time. "He's shy. You'll scare him away and I'll never see him again."

"I won't, Scout's honour!" Linus sketched a salute in the air, and mentally crossed his fingers behind his back.

* * *

Linus adored Edward from the moment he first saw him; a tall, lean, smiling guy with eyes twinkling behind spectacles, walking over to their table at the steakhouse.

"You must be Edward. How absolutely splendid to meet you at last!" Linus was effuse in his greeting.  
"Linus, very nice to meet you too." Edward's glasses were slipping down his nose as they shook hands, and his hair fell over his forehead. Linus could understand _this_ one straight away. Oh yeah, the very definition of adorable.

Linus kept his word and his hands to himself that evening, but Chris had been quite right; Edward was quite irresistibly fuckable, and Linus was not one to resist temptation placed in his path. He waited a couple of weeks and then in a quiet moment when Chris wasn't listening, made his move.

"Edward darling, I just wanted to let you know I find you terribly attractive," Linus told him, straight up. "And if you ever want to have sex anytime you only have to say."

"I'm very flattered," Edward said, cheeks flushing an attractive shade of pink. "But I don't think Chris would be very happy about that."

Ah, the boy had so much to learn. Linus waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Chris would be cool with that. Talk to him."

* * *

Edward did, apparently, talk to Chris. A couple of beautiful sexual voyeuristic encounters followed, before Linus got his wish to have sex with Edward. It happened with Chris watching from one side and Philippe from the other. Hot, no question, yet...also marvelously, curiously, intimate.

Chris and Edward were just beautiful together. Linus felt himself puff up with pleasure whenever he saw them walking shoulder to shoulder, sitting with legs entwined, talking cheek to cheek, smooching mouth to mouth. Funny how although he had never seen Chris like this with anyone before, now that it had happened it seemed perfectly natural.

Edward had a certain forgetful clumsiness about him that Linus knew could have driven Chris mad if it had been anyone with Edward, it was endearing. Like the time Edward was working one weekend, when they were going to an afternoon birthday barbecue at Gavin and Dean's house.

"Sorry, sorry!" Edward joined them in the garden half an hour late, breathless and shivering slightly in shirtsleeves. It was a cool day, rather late in the year for a barbecue. "I forgot where we were meeting and I lost the map-"

"S'okay," Chris assured him, brushing a hand gently along Edward's cheek. "Hey, you're frozen. Where's your jacket?"

"I think I Ieft it in the office. I've been outside all morning measuring up this new site..."

Chris shrugged off his own heavy leather jacket and draped it around Edward's shoulders.

"Thanks," Edward said gratefully. "Hey-who's this?"

Gavin was walking towards them, but Edward's remark was directed at a tiny miniature poodle puppy running delightedly ahead of him. Chris and Linus didn't move, and Philippe took a step backward, but Edward bent down without hesitation and scooped up the little black dog into his arms.

"Who's beautiful?" he asked, as the poodle stuck out a pink tongue and licked Edward's nose happily.

"Aw, that is so _cute_!" Linus could not help but gibber. Philippe arched his beautiful neck and beamed, too, and Chris... had simply the soppiest expression Linus could ever remember seeing on him.

"You must be Edward," Gavin said gruffly as he joined them. He was a tall man with dark curly hair, not unlike the poodle, Linus could not help but observe. "Good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too," Edward said, with some difficulty through fur. Gavin reached out and took the dog, leaving Edward looking slightly flushed and with his spectacles on crooked. He hunched a little inside Chris's jacket, which was too big for him.

"She likes you," Gavin remarked, as the ball of wool squirmed under his arm. He could be a taciturn soul, but clearly some kind of seal of approval had been attained. "Come get something to eat."

"That sounds great," Edward said with enthusiasm, and he followed Gavin down the garden path.

* * *

The path of true love did not, of course, run smooth. Edward was married, although Linus could see plain as daylight that the real problem was that Chris was intent on playing the ostrich, rather than engaging with Edward about it. The clueless idiot had never been in a relationship before, of course, and had no idea he was supposed to _talk_ about stuff like this...

Chatting with Edward at his house one day, while Chris and Philippe were off talking about baseball (of all things...), Linus found Edward distracted and fretting after a recent phone conversation with his sister Eleanor.

"We don't see each other very often or anything," Edward explained. "The thing is, what really makes it awful, is that Claudia is her best friend."

Claudia, Linus had just about grasped, was Edward's wife.

"I mean, that's how we met," Edward continued. "Ellie introduced us. Claudia was really good to Ellie when she was going through a bad patch. And now… it's just a fucking nightmare."

"Her brother married her best friend, then left her for a man." Linus surmised with growing dismay. "Yes, it doesn't exactly make for happy family get-togethers, does it?"

"No, Mom and Dad are just beside themselves. I mean, if I'd left her for another woman it would have been bad enough. For a man… they just don't get it." Edward threw up his hands. "I hardly get it myself after I talk to them."

This was bad shit. "They're not very….tolerant?"

"No. They're good people, honest, but they've got no experience with this kind of thing." Edward closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I've had some horrible arguments with Dad. Really terrible. It's not just Mom and Dad, either-since it got out at my office, some people won't even work with me anymore."

Linus drummed his fingers on the table, very worried, but not knowing what to do. "Have you talked about all this with Chris?"

Edward sighed. "He doesn't want to talk about Claudia, or my family. And to be honest, I haven't tried that hard. I don't really want to talk about it either."

"You should talk," Linus said firmly, and he told Chris the same thing, but he feared it wasn't going to happen.

* * *

Another thing Linus learned about Edward that gave him pause was that he had been in an abusive relationship in the past. Or as Chris put it, he'd had _a dick of a boyfriend in college who treated him badly and fucked him every which way._

"Abusive how?" Linus asked Chris, when Edward was not in the room.

"Sadist psychopath bastard." Chris's face darkened. "Liked to hurt Edward. Pimped him out to his friends. Doped him up so he'd lie there and take it. Fucking pervert-"

"Hey, keep your shirt on," Linus was sorry to have gotten his friend so worked up. "This was years ago, right?"

"It's because of Preston that Edward took fright and ended up getting married," Chris ranted. "If I ever meet him, I'll kill him. I really will."

While Chris blew off steam in the direction of the absent Preston, Linus was left uneasy, imagining the college-age Edward in an abusive relationship. Nasty, obscene scenarios rolled across his mind. Protective feelings rose in his chest at the idea of Edward being so exploited. He wanted to hold Edward close, show him he was loved now, that not all other guys were like that...

And for once, he didn't want to share with Chris.

* * *

Linus saw his opportunity at a big dinner one night at the steakhouse, and took it. It was a farewell event in the private room for Jai, Chris's old college buddy with a penchant for brightly colored clothes and wacky accessories. After several years bartending at the club, saving money by living at his parents' house, Jai had finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life, and was off to learn about furnishings and textiles at a designer's house in Paris, France.

Linus seated himself down the end of the table next to Edward. Philippe, opposite Linus, commenced flirting with a mustached pal of Jai's next to him, and Linus mentally wrote his boyfriend off for the evening and turned his own attention to Edward. Chris, on Edward's other side, was wrapped up in giving Jai a good send-off, and Edward happily chatted away to Linus.

The meal finished, and people got coffee and moved about the room. There was a plan to go to a club and carry on celebrating, not Chris's club for once but another one further down the coast. Linus had no wish to go along, and he rather thought Edward would gladly bow out too.

He collared Edward and glanced around.

"Edward, darling, I would like more than anything in the world to take you home, just the two of us," Linus murmured, and chose his next words deliberately. "And make love to you."

He would more naturally have said _And fuck you into the mattress_. Edward gulped a little.

"I want to, too," he muttered back. "Let me talk to Chris-"

Chris was at the other side of the table, in animated conversation with Jai and others. Philippe was off talking to some other people, his beautifully carved features set in enthusiastic conversation. Linus watched as Edward approached Chris and touched him on the arm to get his attention.

Their conversation was brief; Linus saw Chris nod, and Edward leaned forward to kiss him. Then Edward turned to give Linus a little wave, and headed out of the room.

Ah, this was going to be awesome. Linus got up, suddenly aware of the looming erection in his pants. He paused to say goodbye and good luck to Jai, then passed by Chris on the way out.

Chris tapped Linus on the shoulder and said, a little huskily, "Don't forget to give him back afterwards."

"My dear Chris." Linus was smooth. "I have, on occasion, been told that I am good in bed. I have never, as far as I am aware, been so good as to spoil someone for anyone else ever."

Chris laughed a little, and Linus headed outside to find Edward.

* * *

They drove to Linus's house in comfortable silence. It was raining and the sound of the water on the car roof contributed to a feeling of cozy intimacy. Back at Linus's, they went straight to the bedroom.

Edward started to unbutton his shirt, but Linus murmured, "Let me undress you."

He stood still as Linus tenderly, carefully, undid each button to unveil a taut muscled chest with a hefty sprinkling of hair. Linus remembered that Edward had run a marathon once, and could see that he had the wiry physique of a distance runner, rather than the more overtly muscled figure of a gym-goer, like Chris.

"Ah," Edward whispered as Linus plucked open his fly, sliding a deft hand inside to feel a marvelous and increasing bulge. "Yes. -Please-"

Linus was only too pleased to drop to his knees and take Edward in his mouth. He took his time, nuzzling carefully at first, before starting to lick and suck in earnest. Edward gasped and gagged, as though he was the one with a cock half way down his throat; his fingers scrabbled helplessly on Linus's shoulders.

He pulled back with a very visible effort, a heaving panting mass of delicious quivering nerve endings_, _and joined Linus on the floor. _"Linus."_

"Edward, darling." Linus caressed Edward's face, jawline, nipples. "If I may..."

"Yes. _Now_." Edward shifted onto his stomach, allowing Linus to reach his ass. Linus hummed as he sheathed himself and then concentrated on getting Edward really, completely ready; lubed and relaxed and arching his back to encourage another finger, prostate-_yes_-and then his own dick was hot and snug inside.

They moved as one, bodies rocking slowly, then hard and fast, Edward moaning and groaning into the rug, Linus keeping his face buried in the back of Edward's neck, mumbling incoherent sweet nothings and reassurance. They came almost at the same time; Edward first, fists balled and body writhing; Linus held off another minute before shooting out in a magnificent expression of love and affection.

* * *

As they lay together in coma-like exhaustion, an event Linus hadn't thought about for a long time came floating to the top of his consciousness. He tried to push it away, but it wouldn't go; it woke him up and darkened his mood. Eventually he got up and went to the bathroom, then down to the kitchen to gulp some water.

"Hey," a voice murmured in the doorway, and it was Edward, glasses on crooked and hair all mussed up in the most delectable way. "You okay?"

Linus opened his mouth to say_ I'm fine_, but he wasn't, so he shook his head instead.

"Tell me about it," Edward said immediately.

Linus took a long breath, then said, "There's something I want to show you. Give me a minute."

It took more than a minute to rummage through a miscellaneous number of boxes stashed at the back of a closet in his bedroom. Linus eventually found what he was looking for, an old VHS videotape, and took it down to Edward, who was now comfortably ensconced on the living room couch.

"What is it, a sex tape?" Edward joked, then seeing Linus's face, said, "Oh. Uh-"

"This is a tape of a party I went to back in college, in sophomore year," Linus explained, slotting it into the video player and turning on the TV. "Edward, I want to say right now that I'm not proud of this-"

"Holy crap, it's you." Edward was round-eyed at the screen.

It was indeed Linus, younger and a little thinner, but otherwise still very much the same, sprawled on a couch at a house party. The camera veered away from room to room, showing men wandering around in various states of undress, couples getting up close and personal, a blowjob being given very publicly in the kitchen. There was sound, but very fuzzy, the general hum of the party largely drowning out specific moans and groans.

"Looks like quite a party," Edward said uncertainly, obviously not sure where this was going.

"It was," Linus agreed, his tone neutral.

The camera came back into the sitting room, and now Linus was shown disrobing, and he had been joined on the couch by another young man; skinny, naked, and..._blindfolded_. A large black and white checked handkerchief was tied around his eyes. Linus watched Edward sit up a little straighter in his chair.

"Who is he?"

"I am ashamed to say I don't remember his name, in fact I'm not sure I was ever told," Linus admitted. "He was a freshman, away from home for the first time, bold as brass and possibly a little high on something. Said he'd never been fucked by a man before but he'd try anything once."

"I see." Now it was Edward's tone that was neutral.

"Me and a couple of others thought this was an invitation we couldn't refuse, we flipped a coin to see who'd have the honor, and blindfolded him so he wouldn't know which of us got him..." Linus gulped a little, watching himself push the blindfolded boy onto all fours and penetrate him from behind, rather roughly. "Though of course he knew it was me, knew from my voice. At first it was cool..."

They watched for a few minutes in silence. The cameraman dwelled on Linus for a bit, got bored and wandered off. He soon returned to show the blindfolded boy now flat on his face, pressed down into the couch. Linus was lying on top of him, stretched out across his entire body in a way not dissimilar as to how he had been atop Edward earlier, hips rocking back and forth as he continued to pound inside his companion.

Then the boy raised his face away from the couch a little. And Linus wrenched the blindfold from his head, balled it in his hand, and stuffed it inside the boy's mouth.

Edward sprang to his feet and started to pace the floor. "Linus-I don't want-"

"That's it," Linus was relieved to be able to say. He hit the remote to turn off the TV. "Pretty much. I pulled out a minute later and came across his ass. He-he was fine. A bit dazed. He got up and got dressed and went away."

"Then-what's the problem? Why've you been showing me all this?" Edward demanded.

"Because it's haunted me ever since," Linus burst out. "You saw him lift his head? He was trying to speak. He said _stop_. He said _no_. I was so close to coming I didn't want to stop so I put that goddamn handkerchief in his mouth to shut him up."

Edward sat down slowly, not looking at Linus.

"Edward, I was ashamed of myself immediately and believe me, I have bent over backwards ever since to make sure I haven't crossed that line again." Linus was speaking quickly now, words tumbling out. "I really hope you know, and Chris will tell you any day, that consent is _the_ most important thing to me-"

"Has Chris seen this?"

"No." Linus swallowed. "I would rather he didn't know. I've not talked about this to anyone, ever. But Edward, my darling Edward, ever since I heard about your Preston I've had the most guilty conscience that perhaps I was a little like that in college too."

There, he'd said it.

There was silence for a minute or two, then Edward sighed. "Linus, the very fact you feel so guilty about this-and you _should_-shows you're just worlds away from Preston. He'd have done something like that without a second thought."

"Right," Linus said cautiously.

"I haven't got any videos, thank God, but let me tell you a story about Preston." Edward sat back on the sofa and closed his eyes. "He was fucking me in his room one night and he'd gagged me, just like that, said it would be fun. He was on top-he was always on top. We had only been together a few weeks and I thought he was the most wonderful guy in the world, even though he was rough and I was always sore, I thought that was just what it was like."

Suddenly Linus felt some of the same flare of anger that he had seen in Chris. "Really."

"Yeah. Anyway, we were having sex, when the door opened. And three of his friends came in the room." Edward sounded matter-of-fact, remote. "I couldn't believe it, I just froze, but Preston didn't turn a hair, just pulled out and climbed off me. I realized later he must have left the door unlocked for them. He knew they were coming, but he hadn't told me."

Linus could see where this was going, and felt sick to the stomach.

"And the first guy unbuttoned his fly, and he started fucking me." Edward rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I couldn't speak-I could hardly move-I was just paralyzed. Preston kept telling me I was being awesome. The second guy flipped me over and took me from behind, and so did the third. And then the three of them left, and Preston-who had the most raging hard-on you ever saw-carried on like nothing had happened."

"The fuckers raped you." Linus had never been more sure of anything in his life.

Edward shrugged. "I think that too, now, but at the time I wasn't sure. I didn't manage to say _stop_ or _no_-I cried out a bit through the gag, but it didn't make any difference, and Preston gushed to me afterward about how great I had been. So I pretended that I'd liked it too, because I didn't want to sound stupid and I was trying to make him happy...Linus, whatever you were like in college, you were nothing like Preston! Throw that tape in the trash and move on."

Linus nodded dumbly.

"And let's go back to bed," Edward added, standing up, and reaching to take Linus's hand.

* * *

They went back to bed, and rather to his own surprise, Linus was sleepy almost immediately. He felt himself relax and start to drift off. Edward's story had shocked and saddened him, but also been perversely reassuring; a weight had lifted from his soul.

He woke an hour later to find Edward fluttering kisses against his neck and lightly pinching his nipples. Linus felt his cock start to move towards erection; oh yeah, he could go again tonight. He so could.

"Linus, this time, let _me_ fuck _you_," Edward murmured, and Linus reared back a little in astonishment.

Many people switched all the time, he knew, but he was not one of them. Most of his sexual partners, like Philippe, were versatile and perfectly willing to do what he wanted. Linus hadn't bottomed since... hmm, possibly not since some early sexual experiences with some much older boys back in high school.

"Do excuse me for a moment," Linus muttered back, got up and made his way to the bathroom. He sat there for a few minutes, and decided really, he had no reason to refuse.

He made his way back to the bedroom, where Edward was lying on his side, looking a trifle anxious. "Linus, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Of course not, my dear Edward, of course not." Linus sat down on the bed. "I trust you and I am all yours. I don't often say this, but be gentle with me."

Edward laughed at that, and reached to pull Linus down next to him.

Linus lay on his back. They kept very close together and it was all very warm and tender; touching, stroking, slowly until Linus felt every square inch of his skin fairly crackling with anticipatory desire. Edward readied him as carefully and slowly as had been done to him earlier. And then he climbed on top of Linus and one push later, Linus lost all his senses except that of touch.

Vision and hearing vanished into the ether; he felt his own hard-on being rolled in Edward's fist, but the sensation was secondary to the unbelievable sensation of fullness. He was brimming with love and goodness and orgasmic firecrackers. And then he went supernova, and there were shooting stars and explosions galore.

* * *

Linus woke the following morning while Edward was still sound asleep. He got up quietly so as not to disturb him, pulled on his bathrobe, and peeked into the bedroom next door, Philippe's room. Philippe usually slept with Linus, of course, but Linus always tried to respect the privacy of the men he invited to live with him and gave them their own room too. Anyway the room was empty and Linus guessed with pleasure that Philippe had spent the night with the mustached man.

Linus went downstairs, and found Chris sitting in his kitchen, with a mug of coffee and a was wearing the same clothes as the night before, and Linus guessed Jai's send-off had gone on through the night.

"Morning," Linus said nonchalantly, heading for the coffee jug.

"Morning." Chris put the paper down and stretched in his chair. "Good night?"

"I should say so. The dear boy's upstairs, sleeping it off. Do go see him—" Linus sat down hard in a chair without thinking. "_Ugh_!" He couldn't stop a wince and a grimace.

A slow smile spread across Chris's face. "You bottomed for him!"

There was no reason to be embarrassed, but Linus could feel his cheeks going pink. "Like you never have."

"I've always switched for the right person, or the right situation," Chris pointed out mildly, still grinning. "You, though... you're the most intractable top I've ever met."

"I guess I just can't say no if a beautiful young man asks me," Linus said with as much dignity as he could muster.

Chris laughed out loud at that. He got up and headed towards the stairs, then paused to ask over his shoulder, "Would you do it again?"

"For him, yes I would," Linus admitted, and found he too had a smile stuck to his face.

* * *

"Oh come on," House said in exasperation. "Enough already of the sickening good sex stories. Like we actually believe them anyway."

_"House,"_ Wilson said vainly.

Linus, who had skipped lightly over his own confession and the Preston story to expound in more detail on Edward's attractions, laughed. "So what do you want to hear about?"

House shrugged. "If you _must_ go on...Chris and Edward broke up for a while, right? Edward went back to his wife? Now that sounds more interesting. That's what we want to hear about."

* * *

END OF PART 6

TBC. Next part: Linus remembers Chris and Edward's early relationship problems, and his beloved stray cat Ryan.


	10. Chapter 10: Ryan

**Title**: Ryan: Linus and Chris, part 7  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, Linus/Ryan  
**Beta**: the continually marvellous srsly_yes  
**A/N**: Parallels the story of Chris & Edward, from the end of part 3 through part 5.

**Summary**: Linus remembers the time when Chris and Edward broke up, and how he met Ryan.  
**Excerpt**: _"Elf," Linus said. "I need a beard."_  
_"I assume you don't mean the kind you strap around your chin," Elf said with some amusement. _

**Ryan: Linus and Chris, part 7**

"Edward sounds awesome," a Kitten opined.

"He certainly was," Linus agreed wholeheartedly.

Chris raised an eyebrow at Linus and nodded ever so slightly towards Brian, behind him. It wasn't necessary; Linus was fully aware of the sensitivities of his audience. He gave a small nod back.

"So how come he went back to his wife?" the Kitten was asking.

"Chrissy boy wasn't man enough for him," House said, putting a conspiratorial hand to the side of his mouth as if imparting a confidence.

"Fuck you," Chris said, without heat.

"Chris and Edward had a rather rocky relationship in the first year or so." Linus was solemn. "They broke up really quite badly, actually. Then I went off to South America for six months, and they got back together while I was away. Ah, I remember finding the email from Chris with the news, when I was in Buenos Aires... happy day."

"You were with Ryan, weren't you?" Chris's mouth puckered at the corners.

"I certainly was. Darling Ryan." Linus sighed.

* * *

Edward's problems were the ones that had been there at the beginning, that Chris had been so studiously ignoring-hostile, elderly parents, an unstable, immature sister, and worst of all, a wife. Edward arrived at Linus's house one Saturday morning, and spent half an hour with his head buried in his hands at the kitchen table.

Linus initially assumed he just needed a shoulder to cry on, to vent some family angst, but the strangled scraps of conversation soon showed Linus it was much more serious than that.

"It would be so much simpler if I hadn't met him," Edward moaned at one point.

"You can't mean that." Linus was horrified. "You have something so special! You're in love with him, and he's in love with you—"

"Then why don't we ever talk about this kind of stuff?" Edward demanded.

"Because he's an idiot who's never been in a relationship before." Linus made excuses for his friend, feeling more exasperated with every word; honestly, _Chris_, the fool.

"Seriously. I swear he hardly even knows I have a sister." Edward put his head in his hands. "I tell you, Linus, he doesn't care."

Linus really didn't like the way this was going. "Of course he cares, Edward, you can't possibly doubt that."

"He cares that I'm here and with him, living in his happy little bubble and having great sex with him," Edward stated. "He doesn't care about me as a person, about my work or friends or family—"

"Try talking to him—"

"I have! He changes the subject or pretends not to hear me or he just walks away." Edward got to his feet as he spoke. "I have to go, Linus. Thank you for everything, I really appreciate it, and I'm so sorry."

And he was gone.

Linus sat at the table for a moment in shock, before summoning the presence of mind to call Chris. But it was too little, too late.

* * *

Chris turned up a short while later, and he was white as a sheet, looking dazed as if he'd just been hit on the head, eyes frozen in a kind of numb horror. Linus put aside any idea of discussing what had happened, sat Chris down in the living room, and found a bottle of half-decent Scotch.

Only half-decent, as it wasn't like Chris would be able to appreciate the really good stuff right now. Linus roamed around his house, wanting to do something but with no idea what could be done.

Later in the day, Philippe returned from a shopping trip and Linus hastened to update him. "Edward has left Chris; it's really terrible. My dear boy, Chris is just destroyed. If you felt like comforting him at all..."

"I am always happy to comfort Chris," Philippe assured him, and went to join Chris in the living room.

From the doorway, Linus saw Philippe sit next to Chris and speak gently to him, and a minute later Chris put his head in his hands and started to sob. Linus could not recall ever having seen Chris cry before, not at sad movies, not even at funerals; always the alpha male, apparently physically unable to shed tears-until now.

Secure in the knowledge that Philippe would give Chris all the physical warmth and intimacy he required, Linus relaxed a little himself, went to make coffee, and turned his thoughts to the upcoming Christmas season.

* * *

Linus had long been in the habit of spending Christmases abroad, but this time opted to stay at home as he had a big trip to South America planned for the new year. Philippe, who might have kicked up a fuss and sulked otherwise, was very much looking forward to the trip and proclaimed himself happy to stay in New Jersey through Christmas. Linus was also aware that they could keep an eye on Chris through the holiday season; he didn't really think his friend would do anything stupid, but there was no harm in being careful. There was no precedent for this situation, after all.

He went on one of his sporadic office visits in mid-December to find Elf's offices festooned with decorations, and Elf herself hunkered behind her desk looking decidedly grumpy.

"Honestly, I can't wait until the whole Christmas thing is over," Elf declared, as he plumped himself down on the other side of her desk. "It's not like I can go to half the parties I get invited to. Look, even my architect's firm, who built my conservatory, invited me to their party."

"It's all about touting for business, that kind of party." Linus picked up the invitation card. "This is Edward's firm, right?"

"That's right," Elf confirmed, looking a little quizzical. She knew about the Chris-Edward mess, but not knowing Chris particularly well, wasn't that perturbed by it.

Linus grew thoughtful. He sat for a moment, twisting the card between two fingers, then sat forward.

"Elf," Linus said. "I need a beard."

"I assume you don't mean the kind you strap around your chin," Elf said with some amusement. "Where are you going that you need a beard?

"To this party." Linus waved the card. "I'll have to go as your guest. Unless people there would expect to see you with Donna?"

"No, Donna never met anyone at the firm except Edward, on his site visits. She was kinda busy with work when it was being built, I was trying to spare her the hassle." Elf sat forward in her own seat, her interest caught.

"And Edward's not going to have mentioned her to his co-workers if they really are a bunch of bigots." Linus thought aloud.

"Cinderella, you can go to the ball!" Elf chortled.

"Well, Elf, we've been married for ten years, you know, it's about time we were seen in public." Linus started to construct a persona.

Elf stuck one finger up at him, but she was smiling. "This could be fun."

* * *

The party was held in a large room in a beautiful old warehouse which was itself a prime example of the architectural firm's work, as it had been newly converted into large modern studio-type working spaces. Linus gathered the party was as much to lease out some of the offices as to have a good time, and there were a fair few small artistic-type businesses who seemed to be interested.

He and Elf armed themselves with champagne and ambled around the main room through the crowds, admiring high ceilings and recessed lighting. Elf rolled her eyes at the Christmas tree, which had red ribbons, bells, and miniature scrolled blueprints as decorations with the line, "_All dreams can come true at Christmas! We'll build yours!"_

And there suddenly was Edward, walking toward them-in a tux. Linus had never seen Edward wearing smart clothes before. Crisp white shirt, neat little tie, sleek jacket. Oh the gorgeousness of it could not be overstated.

He looked a little thinner, though, and that made Linus frown. Edward had always been on the skinny side, he didn't need to lose weight.

"Edward!" Elf greeted him as they approached each other. "How great to see you again!"

"Hello, Elf," Edward began, then his glasses slid down his nose and his jaw dropped, as his eye fell on Linus right behind her.

"You know Linus, I think," Elf added with supreme innocence.

"Uh-_guh_-yeah." Edward was crimson. "I-I need you to meet someone. This is my-wife, Claudia."

And now it was Linus's turn to be surprised, as a small woman appeared from behind Edward. So _this_ was Claudia. Linus had no idea what he had expected but it wasn't this; she was short, and pretty in a kind of understated way, he supposed, with shoulder-length brown curly hair. And she had a limp, was walking with a floral patterned cane. Wow, he had definitely not expected that.

"Delighted to meet you, Claudia" Elf said, sounding quite sincere as she shook hands. "My name is Elf, your husband built my conservatory. And this is _my_ husband, Linus."

Edward put a hand over his mouth.

"How very nice to meet you both," said Claudia, in a low serene voice. "A conservatory, you say? I keep telling Edward we should have one. How big is yours?..."

Elf embarked on a lengthy description of her house, and Linus turned to Edward.

"Edward, I'm thinking of renting my own office space," Linus lied briskly. "The studios here look very nice. Perhaps you could show me one?..."

Edward took his cue. "Uh yes, sure. There's an office down the corridor that might suit you-let's go take a look."

Edward led the way out of the party down a broad, newly carpeted corridor, to a spacious office with brick walls and an exposed beam ceiling. It didn't quite seem appropriate to close the door behind them, so Linus just followed Edward inside and lowered his voice.

"How are you?" Linus asked, as gently as he could.

"I'm fine." Edward's response sounded automatic. "How is _he_?"

No need to ask who was meant. "He's...surviving." Linus shrugged a little. "You broke his heart. He's desperately unhappy without you."

"Really?" Edward swallowed, and Linus watched the Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Really." Linus was emphatic.

"I miss him too," Edward confessed. "I didn't think he... I thought he would have just gone back to screwing around and having a good time, how he was before."

"He might be screwing around-" there was no point pretending Chris was living like a hermit- "but he's not having a good time. You changed him, Edward, he'll never be the way he was before. If you could give him another chance-"

_"No." _Edward's voice was too loud, and he dropped it as he carried on. "Don't do this to me, Linus, please. Claudia is so happy, and Ellie, and we're all travelling to Mom and Dad's tomorrow for a big family Christmas-I can't ruin all that, Linus, I just can't!"

Linus opened his mouth to reply, but Edward was rolling on. "He will be fine, Linus, I know he will. He'll get over me, he'll find another guy with decent biceps and a tight ass, and he'll forget about me."

"He'll never find anyone who looks as good in a tux as you." Linus attempted levity.

Edward smiled a little, and muttered, "Your _wife_ might not appreciate you ogling me..."

"Oh Elf knows I have my needs," Linus said airily, and at that moment Elf and Claudia walked into the room. Linus realized belatedly that Edward had seen them coming over his shoulder and had been trying to warn him.

"-And right now I need some more office space," Linus added hastily.

"Edward, I never thanked you properly for my wonderful conservatory." Elf elbowed her way past Linus to collar Edward. She had an expression on her face that told Linus she might just murder Claudia if left with her a moment longer.

Linus sighed inwardly and turned to talk to Claudia. He couldn't think of anything better to say than, "This is a lovely building, isn't it? I must say I am quite tempted."

"It is a nice conversion," Claudia agreed. "I am much happier with this than the last building conversion Edward worked on. That one was previously a church, and I worry that there will be payback at judgment day for taking it away from its true purpose."

Linus thought she was making a joke until he saw the grave sentiment on her face. He gulped, suddenly getting a new insight into Edward's married life.

"A church?" he prevaricated. "What, converted into apartments, or offices?"

"A big loft condo. It was done very tastefully, of course. But the devil's own work may be going on there now." Claudia was solemn. "The Lord may not be pleased."

"I guess." Linus had no words.

She pointed up at the ceiling, indicating the decorative curved molding around the edges. "These moldings are very pleasant, don't you think? I never know what the different patterns are called..."

The molding was curved inwards. Linus, who had become reasonably well versed in this kind of thing during the building of his own house, opened his mouth to say it was _cavetto_, but instead mischief bubbled up within him and he said, "I believe the style is called _frottage_."

"Ah." Claudia nodded wisely. "Well, you learn something new every day. The pastor at my church is having his ceiling done, I may suggest he goes for frottage."

"You do that," Linus was very pleased he managed to keep a straight face.

* * *

Linus didn't tell Chris about his meeting with Edward and Claudia, as he couldn't see that he'd learned anything Chris would want to know. They had a quiet Christmas at Linus's house with Philippe, and a lot of food and drink.

With the dawn of the new year, the big trip to South America beckoned. Linus invited Chris along too, but Chris declined to come. "Not in the mood."

"You can join us any time if you change your mind." Linus left a copy of his schedule, and made Chris promise to stay busy and keep in touch.

Linus and Philippe flew to Caracas, and after some big city fun, spent a couple of weeks journeying down the Amazon. From there they travelled through Brazil, falling in with a rowdy bunch of young people in Rio. When the time came from them to leave, Philippe did not want to go. "Everyone says I should stay for the summer, for the carnival, you know."

"Then I will bid you farewell," Linus said, rather sad but not too heartbroken. He'd thought Philippe was getting bored in New Jersey; he hadn't really expected Philippe to make it back with him, although he'd hoped to keep his company a little longer.

He had a busy schedule ahead which was flexible in part, but there were various meetings he had lined up along the way, and he didn't want to stay too long in one place. In Argentina he enjoyed visiting caves and parks, valleys and waterfalls, and a cattle ranch which supplied steak to a number of New Jersey establishments that Linus had an interest in, including Chris's steakhouse.

In Buenos Aires he admired smart cafes and nice restaurants, and wished Philippe was there with him. On his first evening he met up with an old acquaintance for a drink. He knew Matias as a friend of Julio's, who had lived in Florida for a while before returning to his native country to open his own bar.

"And a very nice place it is too." Linus appreciated the decor from a cozy nook in the corner.

"Thank you." Matias smiled modestly. "So tell me about your trip, Linus. It sounds quite ambitious."

Linus outlined his schedule past and future, and related how he had left Philippe in Rio. "The dear boy will have much more fun there without me, but it has left me a little lonely."

"You want a travelling companion, you could ask Ryan to go with you." Matias waved a hand across the room in the direction of the bartender.

Linus squinted to see a baby-faced young man, with pale skin and dark brown hair sticking upwards in tufts, pulling a pint. "Really? That beautiful boy?"

"Ryan's doing a round-the-world trip, he's working here until he can afford to move on," Matias explained.

"Really." Linus stretched out a hand. "Maybe I can help him."

"Don't get the wrong idea, he's not going to give up his ass to you for a plane fare," Matias said bluntly. "He's been here a few months now, and he hasn't let anyone into his pants that I've heard. And being behind that bar all day means he gets offers."

"Oh." Linus was chastened. "Well, perhaps I'll just talk to him."

He wandered across to the bar later in the evening. "Hello, my name is Linus, Matias tells me you are Ryan."

Up close, Ryan had beguiling hazel eyes that made Linus start to melt inside.

"That's right," Ryan confirmed, and they shook hands solemnly. "You're American, Linus?"

"I am," Linus confirmed, and could not help but try and come on to this lovely creature. "And what's a nice boy like you doing in a big bad city like this?"

"Seeing the world." Ryan raised an enchantingly lyrical voice over a hubbub of customers. "I did Europe, north Africa, south east Asia, Australia, New Zealand, working my way around. Then I got to South America, and now I'm just waiting until I earn enough money to move on."

"To the States?" Linus hazarded,

"I want to do the Inca trail first, and maybe visit Chile, too, but yeah. I hope to get to the States after that. I've never been there," Ryan admitted. "Whereabouts are you from?"

"New Jersey."

"Don't know anything about New Jersey," Ryan confessed, and Linus regaled him with Jersey's attractions for a while. Linus kept batting eyelashes and compliments, but Ryan managed to stay perfectly friendly while politely unresponsive to the suggestion of anything more.

Eventually Ryan excused himself to serve another customer. Linus shrugged defeat and took his beer to join Matias, who turned to him and said, "I did warn you, Linus! Look, you might have a better shot with my friend here, let me introduce you..."

And Linus spotted a young man standing nearby with a trim little mustache and gleaming white teeth, and tried to put Ryan from his mind.

* * *

Matias's mustached friend kept Linus very happily entertained that night, but was gone the next morning. Linus shrugged and set out to see the city by himself.

The bar was conveniently situated to visit while sightseeing, and Linus found himself returning each day he was in Buenos Aires. It was quiet in the mid-afternoon, and he found Ryan friendly and happy to chat to someone in his native tongue.

They talked a lot about travel. Linus was very well travelled in North America and Europe, but not other parts of the world. He was entranced by Ryan's stories, and resolved to go visit some of these places himself one day.

"Where are the best looking men, do you think?" Linus asked, a tad cheekily.

"Argentina," Ryan said with a smile. "Before that, Brazil. Wherever I am, basically."

"Anyone in particular you've encountered?" Linus pushed, hoping to hear about lurid sexual experiences. But Ryan just laughed him off.

Another area that Ryan wouldn't talk about was his life before he set out on his world trip. Linus expressed his liking for Ryan's melodious brogue, but Ryan deflected any questions about his family or background, insisting it was very boring and he would much rather hear about Linus's life in New Jersey. Linus happily expounded about his life, friends, and boyfriends.

"Philippe was gorgeous, I was so sorry to lose him," he sighed as he told Ryan about his departure from Rio. "He had a noble look, like a Roman God. I always thought his face looked like it had been carved from marble."

Superb news from home came one day when Linus checked his e-mail, and found a message from Chris.

_Edward is back, he's left her again, I'm trying to be a better boyfriend this time around._  
_Wish me luck, C_.

Linus sent back an ecstatic response, then went rushing to the bar to share his news with someone. "Edward and Chris are back together!"

"Chris is your best friend..." Ryan's brow creased as he remembered previous conversations.

"And Edward is his soulmate," Linus explained triumphantly. "They just haven't quite realized that yet."

"That's cute."

"Edward is certainly cute. He's quite the most fuckable guy I've ever met." Linus winked. "Present company excepted, of course."

Ryan shook his head with a grin, but didn't reply.

* * *

Inevitably they ended up discussing future plans, and they both intended to visit the same countries in South America, the only difference being that Linus had his itinerary neatly mapped out, and Ryan had a sketch on the back of a table napkin.

A couple of weeks later, having already extended his time in Buenos Aires once, Linus took the plunge and asked with some diffidence, "My dear Ryan, I am going to have to leave for Santiago in a few days time. You want to go there too, so I wonder if you would consider coming with me? And perhaps on to Peru after that?"

Ryan dropped his gaze. "I can't really afford-"

"I'm asking you as my guest," Linus hastened to add. "Please don't feel it would be any imposition. I always intended this to be a trip for two anyway, I have two places booked on an Inca Trail trek. It would be no trouble at all."

Ryan looked Linus squarely in the eye, and said, "Thank you, I do appreciate the offer, but I'm not looking for a relationship."

"I'm not asking for one," Linus parried.

Ryan's cheeks twitched at that. "Let me tell you what'll happen. We'll go to check in at a hotel one day, and you'll come back and tell me that they only had one room, but it's okay, it's got two beds. Then we'll get to the room, but there'll be a double instead. And you'll say no problem, we can share, I won't touch you. Then in the middle of the night you'll roll over, pretending to be asleep still, and put a hand on my-"

"Ryan, please!" Linus was going to say _I would never do a thing like that_ but thought better of it. "I'm not going to deny that I find you very attractive. But I respect your wishes, and I swear most solemnly that if you come travelling with me, I won't lay a finger on you."

Ryan peered at him closely, and apparently what he saw reassured him, because he shrugged a little and said, "Then okay. I'll come with you to Chile and we'll see how we get on."

* * *

They got on very well, in a platonic kind of way, although Matias for one didn't believe it. When he heard he was losing his bartender, his reaction to Linus was, "Fucking hell! You got into his pants after all. It just took some time."

"We're just friends!" Linus said, rather crossly.

"Yeah, right." Matias winked and tapped his nose, and Linus gave up.

It was a little strange, travelling with someone who he wasn't sharing a bed with. He had done it before, having taken a number of vacations with Chris, but that was totally different. Not only had he no desire to share a bed with Chris (and they had in fact shared rooms and even double beds on occasion, with no trouble), but when travelling with Chris they had both been on the lookout for some tail, and encouraged each other in doing so.

Not so with Ryan, who remained politely distant in that regard. He did _look_ at other men, sometimes-Linus spotted occasional desirous, yearning glances. Sometimes even (Linus flattered himself) directed at himself. But apparently he hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't want a relationship. Not even a one-night stand.

"_You_ can make a move on him, I don't care," Ryan said in a bar one night, after Linus had commented on an alluring young man on the other side of the room.

"Maybe I will," Linus said, nettled, but he didn't. He suspected he would only end up pretending the other man was Ryan, anyway; might as well just keep on jerking off to a mental image instead. Linus's masturbatory mind was full of luscious hazel eyes and tufted brown hair, and a lilting brogue moaning his name.

Travelling with Ryan also meant that other people they met tended to assume they were a (rather undemonstrative) couple. Linus found Ryan was not apt to correct them, which surprised him until he realized it was a way of deterring them from hitting on him.

And so they went on, until one day everything changed. They were walking in a forested valley in Chile, with marvellous views over sweeping mountains, and had paused by a waterfall for a breather. Ryan climbed on a large rock to get a better view, but the rock was wet with spray. He slipped, and slithered sharply off the other side.

"Ryan!" Linus scrambled around the rock to find him.

"I'm here," Ryan said, a quiver in his voice, and Linus saw him crouched on the ground, leaning against the rock, clutching his left arm.

"You're hurt!" Linus was alarmed. He reached Ryan and saw a red ribbon running down his arm, from elbow to wrist. "You're bleeding! Here-"

"It's just a scrape," Ryan insisted, holding his arm away from Linus. His face had gone quite white.

"Don't be silly, let me see it." Linus groped in a pocket for a clean handkerchief to bind the wound. He reached out, but Ryan scrambled to his feet and stumbled a few paces away,

"No, Linus, I'm fine-just gimme the handkerchief-"

"Let me see it!" Linus insisted, feeling some of Ryan's agitation building in himself. Blood was still trickling down Ryan's arm. "It looks like a deep cut. Have you had a tetanus shot recently? You might need to see a doctor."

"Linus, there's something I need to tell you." Ryan took a deep breath, looked away, and tensed as if he expected to be hit. "I'm HIV positive."

Crap. _Crap, crap, crap_. Linus felt a huge wave of panicked sorrow sweep through his body. And suddenly a lot of things seemed to make more sense.

Words sputtered from his mouth: "_Ryan_, my darling Ryan." And he leaned forward to plant a kiss on Ryan's surprised lips.

END OF PART 7

TBC. Next part: Linus returns to New Jersey with Ryan.


	11. Chapter 11: The Magnet Relationship

**Title**: The Magnet Relationship: Linus and Chris, part 8  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, Linus/Ryan  
**Beta**: the always-awesome srsly_yes  
**A/N**: Parallels parts 6-7 of the story of Chris and Edward.

**Summary**: Linus remembers returning to New Jersey with Ryan, and introducing him to Chris and Edward.  
**Excerpt**: _When Chris and Edward arrived at the party, fashionably late, Linus could see at a glance that they both intended to get laid-and not with each other._

**The Magnet Relationship: Linus and Chris, part 8**

"Poor Ryan," Raul said with feeling, and Brian and various Kittens nodded. Linus looked around the room; Chris and other folk who'd known Ryan had been expecting the punchline, but everyone else seemed to be taken by surprise.

"This was quite a few years ago, right?" Wilson asked. "HIV treatments would have been at a fairly early stage."

"Indeed," Linus said sadly.

"Early nineties?" House pressed. "Before anti-retro-virals came out, in 1995-"

"That's right," Linus confirmed. "The HIV diagnosis wasn't quite the automatic death sentence that it had been when I was younger, but close."

"We went to a fair few funerals at college, but they'd tailed off by then," Chris mumbled. Linus nodded, remembering dully how the generation above him had been decimated. Linus had been just young enough (and lucky, and educated enough) to alter his sexual behaviour enough to escape. Chris, a few years younger again, had grown up with the assumption that safe sex was the only way to go.

"So what happened with Ryan?" Brian asked, his brow creased with concern.

* * *

Linus wanted more than anything to hold Ryan close, hug him hard, show him he cared. But Ryan hadn't wanted to be touched before, and Linus was very aware of the promise he'd made. So he bandaged Ryan's arm, brooking no argument about that, but otherwise gave Ryan the space he seemed to want.

They then settled themselves down by the waterfall to rest and snack on picnic food they'd brought.

"Do you know when you caught it?" Linus asked, nibbling at a sandwich without tasting it in the slightest, and they ended up sitting there a couple of hours while Ryan haltingly spilled information he clearly hadn't shared in a long time. If ever. The area wasn't deserted, but it was quiet; hikers periodically walked past and said hello, but didn't disturb them.

The story was tragic, of course. A burst condom during a one-night stand in Soho, London; a panicked test done anonymously at a free clinic; a second test done in even more panic but with the same result; then a decision to go see the world. "Before I died," Ryan said, matter-of-fact.

Linus's heart broke at the thought of this young man facing such news alone. "You didn't have anyone with you? No support? Friends-family-"

"I'd already left my family by then," Ryan explained. His body was relaxed as he leaned against the rock, but his fists were clenched. "I came out to them when I was eighteen and they were shocked. They cared most of all that I kept it a secret and didn't bring shame on them. It was a close-knit community we lived in."

Linus was silent, letting him talk.

"I struggled on there for a few years, and eventually I just couldn't take it anymore, I went to London. I worked in bars, I loved it there. I thought maybe I could even go home again one day. But then-_this_ happened." Ryan opened his hands. "I knew then I couldn't go back, not ever. They would have seen it as divine retribution, me getting what I deserved...they wouldn't even have let me in the door."

"I'm so sorry." Linus knew it was inadequate, but what else to say? He could barely fathom what it must be like behind the high wall Ryan had built for himself, beneath these multiple layers of self-loathing and vulnerability.

"I had friends, and I've met lots of nice people while traveling, but I've tried not to get close to anyone," Ryan continued. "Why bother, when I'm dying? It's not fair on them."

There were lots of things Linus could have said to that, but didn't.

"I met this great guy in Spain, in Barcelona," Ryan rolled on. "We got on so well. He made a pass at me one night, I wanted to go for it, but I figured I ought to tell him. He backed off like I'd pointed two loaded shotgun barrels at him and fled down the road. I was so humiliated, I just went and packed and left town that night. It was my fault, I ruined it."

Ryan's cheeks were crimson at the memory.

"Nothing was _your fault_," Linus couldn't help but say. "It was his fault, and it sounds like he was a complete and utter bastard."

"Maybe. But after that I figured I was just better off not telling anybody. And not getting close to anyone, so it didn't matter anyway."

"What, so you've been in...self-imposed celibacy ever since? My dear Ryan!" Linus couldn't imagine it.

"Not quite," Ryan hastened to add. "I hooked up with this really lovely guy in Australia, in Melbourne. He was HIV positive too, we both figured what the hell, let's do it, let's die quicker together. I stayed six months, maybe, even got some treatment. But he was happy there, didn't want to move on. While I wanted to go to Brazil..."

"Have you not had much medical treatment?" Linus was concerned.

"Not really...you can't, not when you're traveling through different countries all the time. It's not like you ever want to stop and tell any authorities, or they might chuck you out." Ryan was matter-of-fact. "What good is it, anyway? There's no cure."

No cure, but there was that AZT drug now, Linus told himself, and surely new research and discoveries going on all the time. He wanted to sweep Ryan up, take him back to New Jersey and get the best possible meds for him; but he sensed that now was not the time to mention this plan.

* * *

It was a long journey back to their hotel, and by the time they got back it was evening and they were both exhausted. Fortunately the injury to Ryan's arm had not been serious after all; the bleeding had soon stopped.

"Thanks for being cool," Ryan muttered as they tramped down the hotel corridor. "I was afraid you would run a mile."

"My dear Ryan, you are not the first person in this position I've ever met," Linus said briskly. "I've had many such acquaintances, and at least two relationships with positive people... that I know of."

"Really!" Ryan sounded surprised.

"Really." Linus hesitated as they got to his bedroom door.

But Ryan marched past, saying, "Night, Linus," and into his own room next door.

Fine. The boy needed time and space, and Linus would respect that. He had promised not to lay a finger on him, and this news didn't change that. He went to bed alone and fell asleep quickly, though his slumber was light and restless, Ryan's story bubbling through his consciousness.

He woke in the middle of the night at a gentle tapping sound. Someone at the door. Half asleep, Linus hauled himself up, turned on the light and opened the door to find Ryan standing in the corridor in jeans and T-shirt, and barefoot.

"Can't sleep," Ryan said without preamble, and Linus stood aside to let him in.

"You want to... talk? Watch TV?" Linus stifled a yawn.

"No, no. I thought maybe I could sleep in here."

"Please do." Linus shuffled back to bed and pulled the covers over himself again. He watched surreptitiously as Ryan pulled off his T-shirt and dropped his jeans, revealing plain boxers clinging to a very pleasingly rounded ass.

Ryan turned off the light and settled himself on the couch, but ten minutes later Linus heard rustling and padding feet, then felt the mattress dip on his double bed as Ryan sat down on it. "Do you mind..."

"Of course not." Linus shifted to allow Ryan to take a decent amount of coverlet. Ryan stayed on one side and Linus turned the other way, telling himself to stay as far away as possible.

He was wryly amused at the situation. Here he was, sharing his bed with the cutest young man, and he didn't dare touch him. Not because of the HIV thing, but because he'd made a promise, and because he didn't want to be the sleazy older man in a position of power, taking advantage...

And then he felt warm breath on his neck, Ryan right behind him, and glory be, a hard-on rubbing against his tailbone. The message was loud and clear; _it's all right._

"My darling Ryan," Linus rumbled, and turned over to pull his companion close in a fierce embrace. They stayed like that for a long while, until Linus could not resist sliding a hand downwards from Ryan's back to his ass. Ryan wriggled a little under his touch.

"Do you have..." Ryan whispered.

"I do." Thank goodness. Linus reached out to grope for his travel kit on the nightstand, knowing there was a box of condoms within. They both sheathed up carefully, and Linus muttered, "Ryan, sweetheart, I would very much like to fuck you..."

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise. "Then...do. Please."

Their first time was short, sharp and sweet; Linus hardly needed more than a couple of thrusts before the tragic beauty of the young man beneath him overwhelmed his senses and brought him over the edge; Ryan trembled and gasped, eyelids fluttering madly as he came into Linus's fist.

* * *

Ryan called it a _magnet relationship_, which was a new term to Linus, but he liked it. Positive and negative, coming together in mutual attraction. Sure, it was an effort to always, _always_, wear condoms during sex, even blowjobs (Ryan was more punctilious than Linus on insisting on this; Linus supposed the potential guilt in transmitting would be huge); but there was also much renewed pleasure to be found in other stuff, handjobs, kissing even.

They traveled on together as a couple, sharing rooms and beds. They enjoyed trekking in Peru, then made briefer stops elsewhere. Linus succumbed to the charms of other young men they encountered in Bogota and Quito, Ryan professed not to mind at all while declining to actually join in.

Eventually they got to Caracas, where Linus had begun his trip all those months ago. Ryan mused about traveling on to central America, but Linus extended an invitation, held his breath and hoped Ryan would come back to New Jersey with him. To his delight, Ryan decided it would be cool to do the USA next.

* * *

Back home, Chris and Edward were together so all was right with the world. They met at the airport, but both Linus and Ryan were exhausted from their journey so it was no occasion for long conversations. Instead they arranged to do dinner at the steakhouse a week later.

The meal was excellent, and Linus declared the beef to be as good as he had eaten back at the ranch in Argentina. They sat at the best table by the big window with the ocean view, where Linus regaled Chris and Edward with tales of travel. Ryan stayed mostly quiet, contributing amicably enough when he wanted, but keeping a little reserved as was his custom.

They were finishing up dessert when a beautiful sunset bloomed suddenly through the window.

"Wow." Ryan was riveted by the pink sky and purple clouds. "What a fantastic view."

"That's why I built this place right here, to get the sunsets," Chris explained. "Want to go down to the beach? It's even better seen from out there."

"Yes please." Ryan slid off his chair. Chris got up, cranked the side door open, and stepped outside. Ryan followed close behind.

Linus and Edward stayed at the table and watched Chris and Ryan stroll across the restaurant terrace and down onto the beach below. Ryan held up one hand to shield his eyes and the other to point at the horizon; Chris nodded and gestured around too, indicating viewpoints. He walked a little closer to Ryan than absolutely necessary. _Chris likes him,_ Linus realized without surprise.

"Chris likes him," Edward echoed Linus's thoughts.

"Who wouldn't," Linus responded easily, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "Young, pretty, intelligent..." _and positive_, but Linus wasn't going to mention that; it was Ryan's private business. He decided to change the subject. "My dear Edward, it really is so good to have you back. It's like Chris is whole again. And I missed you terribly too, of course."

"I missed you, too." Edward blushed a little behind his spectacles. "I couldn't believe it when you showed up with Elf at that godawful Christmas party. Seriously, I couldn't imagine what on earth you were doing there, I was petrified."

"I'm so sorry to have frightened you." Linus was sincere. "I didn't know Claudia was going to be there, although I probably should have guessed. I do hope divorce is on the cards?"

"Uh, not yet. I'm working on it." Edward hung his head, took off his glasses, and rubbed a hand over his face. He talked a little about Claudia and her refusal to believe that her marriage was over.

Linus listened and peered at Edward, who looked cute and a little vulnerable without his spectacles. Suddenly Linus very much wanted to have this lovely creature naked and squirming beneath him. He put the thought firmly to one side; not now, not tonight. He had only been back a week, had barely settled Ryan into his home, it was too soon to suggest a spot of boyfriend-swapping.

But in a few weeks' time, perhaps...

"I think I will throw a party," Linus declared.

* * *

It was a welcome home party to himself, really, a chance to catch up with friends and acquaintances he hadn't seen for more than six months. And to introduce people to Ryan, although Ryan was apprehensive at the prospect. Linus kept the guest list reasonably small so as not to intimidate him any more than necessary.

When Chris and Edward arrived at the party, fashionably late, Linus could see at a glance that they both intended to get laid-and not with each other. Edward looked just perfect, in a pristine white shirt and jeans that were tighter than Linus remembered him wearing before.

Meanwhile Chris had the predatory gleam in his eye Linus knew of old, and for once Linus was a little worried. He couldn't betray a confidence, and he was ninety-nine per cent sure that Ryan would tell Chris, but...

"You're looking for Ryan?" Linus checked.

"Yeah." Chris looked a little surprised.

Linus hesitated, then decided he had to say something. "Don't jump him too quickly, talk to him first, Chris, talk to him."

Chris looked even more surprised at that, but didn't ask anything more, just headed on out of the room.

Deciding there was nothing else to be done for Chris at this point, Linus turned his attention fully towards Edward, and spent half an hour talking to him as part of a larger group, while edging ever closer. Finally he was standing right next to his quarry, close enough to delight in the scent of familiar cologne and rustle silky floppy hair with his breath.

"Edward, darling." Linus whispered in his ear. "As a good host, I'd like to welcome you back to our midst personally and in private."

"Your bedroom?" Edward's voice was husky, and Linus shuddered deliciously as his body recalled with spine-tingling thrill their last sexual encounter, more than six months before.

Linus led the way upstairs, where they undressed, and sat for a while on the bed, Linus nuzzling Edward's neck, stroking his hair with one hand and his cock with the other, playing his body delicately like a harp. Edward quivered in response, his mouth slightly open in a silent moan.

Eventually Linus couldn't take the anticipation any longer, and moved to push Edward down onto the bed. He wondered if Edward might want to top, but Edward was clearly in a pliable mood, and seemed content to let Linus take the initiative. Linus opted for doggy style, luxuriating in the feel of Edward's smooth, pulsing back and jerking hips under his palms, holding off for as long as possible, knowing Edward was striving for the same.

They lay in post-orgasmic stupor for a little while until Linus moved to strip off the condom, and remarked idly, "You know, you and Chris could be fluid bonded."

Edward looked sleepy and blank. "What do you mean?"

"You could agree to go bareback with each other, so long as you always used protection when you were with other people," Linus explained, thinking regretfully how he was unable to take this step with Ryan. "After you'd both made sure you were clean in the first place."

Edward's body stilled as he thought about that; Linus watched his large brown eyes widen and shine, and was pleased to have planted this seed of an idea.

"Presumably," Edward said haltingly, "one could be fluid bonded with more than one person..."

"Edward, my ego presumes you may be talking about me, and I am terribly flattered and would like nothing more in the world to go bareback with you," Linus said briskly. "But it's really not an arrangement suitable for me." His magnet relationship was very much on his mind. "Talk to Chris."

* * *

After the initial excitement at welcoming and settling Ryan into his home, Linus soon found that life with Ryan was not easy at all.

Linus had pulled as many strings as he could to line up the best possible medical care. A small battery of complicated pills were prescribed, and initially their side effects seemed bad. Ryan had headaches, nausea, vomiting. These eventually seemed to stop, and Linus was pleased. They did some trips up and down the East Coast, visiting the big cities, seeing the sights.

One day Linus remarked how good it was that the side effects had worn off. Ryan was silent for a minute, then said, "They didn't wear off. I stopped taking the meds."

"What?" Linus didn't understand.

"I don't want to take them. I feel better without them."

"What do you mean, you don't want to!" Linus couldn't believe it. "They're to stop this HIV developing into full-blown Aids! Do you want _that_? It could take years off your life, decades even!"

"Or I could live for another twenty years without them and be just fine," Ryan shot back. "Nobody really knows. These pills are not a cure."

"Do you _want_ to die young?"

Ryan's mouth curled with obstinacy. "It's my life. If you're not happy with it, I can just leave."

Linus threw up his hands. "That is not what I want!"

After much discussion, Ryan caved and agreed to try taking the meds again. The following day he was sick to his stomach, and Linus ached at being the cause of this. Three days later Ryan announced he'd rather die than take another pill, and Linus had no idea what to say.

He sought further expert opinions, an alternative regime was prescribed, and Linus and Ryan worked through this cycle several times, different sets of pills causing side effects ranging from mild to agonising, Ryan's reactions ranging from unenthusiastic to hostile. When push came to shove, he just didn't want to take medication and Linus could not force it down his throat.

In desperation, Linus asked Chris to talk to Ryan. Chris was recuperating from a broken ankle and Ryan was looking after him for a while. Chris and Ryan got on very well, and Linus had hopes Ryan would listen to Chris.

"No dice," Chris reported back. "He says he feels better when he doesn't take them."

"That might be the case now-" Linus began, fairly bubbling over with frustration.

"You don't need to tell _me_." Chris propped his foot up on a chair and spread out his hands. "But what can you do? You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. He's an adult, he's sane, you can't give him medical treatment against his will."

"I know." Linus closed his eyes.

"You've done all you can. Let it go," Chris advised, and although it broke Linus's heart, he nodded.

* * *

Linus knew it was only a matter of time before the novelty of New Jersey and the East Coast wore off. The day came when Ryan announced he wanted to fly to LA, to see Hollywood. Linus offered to travel with him, at least for a while, but Ryan shook his head. "I need to go it alone."

Ryan was sufficiently stubborn to refuse much overt help, so Linus simply made sure he paid for the airfare and that Ryan was stocked up on anti-virals, although without much hope Ryan would take them.

Wanting to stay in touch, and knowing Ryan wasn't the type to email or write, Linus gave Ryan a dozen identical postcards picturing Atlantic City, all stamped and addressed to himself.

"All you need to do is scribble a line or two about how you are every so often, and drop it in the mail to me," Linus explained.

"I can do that," Ryan promised.

At the last minute saying goodbye at the airport, he took a gold ring off his own hand and pressed it on Ryan's. "It's yours. Do pawn it if you need ready cash."

"I don't want-"

"Then just take it as a gift," Linus insisted. Ryan looked down, then nodded.

* * *

Linus mourned Ryan's departure for a few weeks, then hooked up with a rather splendid young man called Nico. He didn't forget Ryan, though, and over the next couple of years, he delighted in the occasional postcard dropping into his mailbox.

They initially arrived every couple of months, and postmarks included Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, and San Francisco. There was then a very long gap before one arrived from Alaska, and the scribbled message indicated Ryan had been to Canada in the meantime.

The cards trailed off, and Linus ceased to think very much about Ryan except in wistful terms, about the independently minded tragic young man who had breezed into his life and onward again.

One day he counted the postcards, and realized he had received eleven. He wondered if he'd ever get the twelfth.

* * *

"You can't stop there!" a Kitten protested. "Did you get the twelfth postcard?"

Linus nodded, but before he could expand, other people interrupted.

"I never knew you suggested the bareback thing to Edward," Chris said, his voice quiet and his face still; trying to hide some emotion from Brian, Linus thought. "I thought he came up with it himself."

"You're very welcome," Linus joked. He hadn't mentioned Edward's own suggestion that the arrangement might be expanded to three; he didn't think it necessary.

Meanwhile Raul had picked up on something else. "You gave him a ring?" Raul's voice was even softer than Chris's.

Linus felt a lump in his throat. "I did." Linus loved to give gifts to his boyfriends, always had, including jewelry; but rarely rings. They were too personal, too full of resonances of lifelong commitment and vows. "I guess I just wanted to tell him I'd always be there for him."

Raul reached out and clasped his hand, and Linus squeezed back, feeling the cold metal encircling one of Raul's own fingers.

END OF PART 8

TBC. Next part: Linus receives the twelfth postcard from Ryan. We meet Ravi again.


	12. Chapter 12: The Twelfth Postcard

**Title**: The Twelfth Postcard: Linus and Chris, part 9  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, Ryan, Ravi  
**Beta**: the srsly awesome srsly_yes  
**A/N**: We last encountered Ravi back in part 3.

**Summary**: Linus goes in search of Ryan. We meet Ravi again.  
**Excerpt**: _Ravi was also wearing a studded leather cuff on his right wrist, which Linus immediately wanted to pluck off with his teeth, one stud at a time. _

**The Twelfth Postcard: Linus and Chris, part 9**

"Ryan didn't take his meds. What happens if HIV is left untreated?" a Kitten asked, wide-eyed.

"With a damaged immune system, lots of nasty infections become only too likely." Wilson was grave. "Cytomegalovirus infection, for example, leading to retinitis and perhaps blindness. Tuberculosis; encephalitis-"

"Malaria, herpes, mycobacterium avium complex, thrush, pneumocystis pneumonia," House contributed. "What the fuck was Ryan playing at? Did he have a death wish?"

"Not a death wish, exactly," Linus mused. "But he was very fatalistic. Whatever will be, will be, that kind of thing. I think his upbringing had given him a strong sense of guilt, too, although that's not something he talked about."

"So, that twelfth postcard," a Kitten prompted.

* * *

The twelfth postcard arrived a couple of years after the rest, and Linus saw at a glance as he plucked it out of his mailbox that the writing wasn't Ryan's. It was way too neat. There was no message, just a California address carefully inscribed, one which made Linus stop and stand very still for a few seconds; a hospice.

This could not be good.

He looked the place up; it was an AIDS hospice in a coastal community south of San Francisco. He found a phone number and called, but the person who answered wasn't willing to give out any information about their patients and refused to admit that they might have anyone there called Ryan.

Understandable, Linus supposed. Patient confidentiality and all that. He hung up and dialed a different California number. This one, he knew by heart.

* * *

Ravi was waiting at San Francisco airport when Linus arrived some twenty-four hours later, and looked as good as Linus could ever remember him looking. He managed to appear both slender and muscular, and was wearing cut-off jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt that appeared to be stuck on. He had a discreet diamond stud in his ear and a silver chain around one ankle.

Ravi was also wearing a studded leather cuff on his right wrist, which Linus immediately wanted to pluck off with his teeth, one stud at a time. Maybe later.

"Ravi darling, you look divine," Linus declared, greeting his good friend with a discreet kiss on the cheek. If I wasn't a man on a mission, I would suggest we go get a room right now."

"Just say the word." Ravi smirked and led the way to his car, a smart black two-seat convertible.

"This is a very nice car you have." Linus was delighted. "May I have the pleasure of driving? I'd prefer you to navigate, anyway, actually; you're the local."

"Be my guest." Ravi tossed him the keys, and they set off. The car purred along merrily.

"I've asked around after this hospice place," Ravi said, once they were on their way down the freeway. "It's small, helps people who've got no money, no place to go. It's supposed to be good." He considered his own words, then added, "As far as these things can be. People go there to die, after all."

Linus sighed and decided not to think too much about Ryan just yet. "So how's business, Ravi? Good enough to get you this car, I guess?"

"It was a present," Ravi admitted, coloring slightly.

Linus was delighted. "Someone bought you this car? How many blowjobs did that cost you?"

_Blowjob currency_ was a standing joke between them. Ravi laughed. "Actually, it's a loan. He's a car dealer, says I can have this until he sells it. Except that was a year ago and I can't see how he's ever going to sell it while I'm behind the steering wheel."

"Marvelous." Linus leaned back on plush leather and enjoyed gusty wind rippling his hair.

"He looked me up after he saw me in _Render Unto Caesar_, actually," Ravi remarked. "Asked me to recreate the role for him. We agreed to some ground rules, I see him once a week or so and, well, play the slave boy for him."

"Fuck." Linus liked the sound of this. "Tell me more."

Ravi smiled broadly and stretched in his seat. "It's a bit like _Render Unto Caesar_; he has me standing by ready to do what I'm told. And that usually means..."

Linus yanked the steering wheel and hauled the car down the off ramp. "Ravi, we're finding the nearest motel, preferably one that rents rooms by the hour."

* * *

A couple of hours later, they were back on the road, Ravi at the wheel this time. They drove on in contented silence until turning off at the quiet residential area they were looking for. The weather had turned gray and misty while they were inside, and the car shook a little on the windy road. The path to the hospice was steep and ran above the town to a cliff over the ocean.

It looked like an ordinary house, detached a little way from other houses and with high walls on either side. It was surrounded by a leafy front garden. Ravi parked on the street, and they went up the path and in the front door.

Inside was a high reception desk. A sharp-nosed man sat behind, talking to a man in scrubs standing nearby. The receptionist glared at Linus, and looked ready to turn them away before they even said anything, but then he glanced at Ravi and hesitated.

Linus realized in an instant that it was to their benefit that Ravi (with his leather cuff and diamond earring, standing with a hand on one hip as if posing for a photo) was so obviously gay.

Well, Linus could play pretty gay himself when he wanted to. Ignoring Chris's exasperated expression, which he could see in his head, he tugged at the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, leaned on the counter with one hand and flicked a wrist with the other.

"Hello, dearie. My name is Linus and my beautiful companion here is Ravi. We've driven down from San Francisco to see _darling_ Ryan, through this horrible fog. I was scared that we couldn't see the shoulder of the highway, and we would go over a cliff; I do hope we're in the right place. Please could you tell Ryan that his devoted friend Linus is here to see him."

The receptionist still looked skeptical, but the man in scrubs piped up, "There might be someone called Ryan here." Linus noticed he wore a name badge that read _Nathan. _"Wait here."

He vanished through a door, and was back five minutes later, this time wreathed in smiles. "Ryan'll see you."

They followed the nurse through the building, down a long corridor. "Sorry to be so cautious," Nathan said as they walked. "We can't be too careful at the moment. There's a local group of righteous conservative types who've been picketing and causing us some trouble recently."

Linus was sorry to hear that.

"I suppose they don't like having an AIDS hospice on their doorstep," Ravi ventured.

"I'm afraid so," Nathan said sadly, pushing open a door at the very end of the hall. "Ryan's in here."

And there he was, lying in a bed. Ryan propped himself up on his elbows as they came in.  
Another man, sitting in an armchair on the far side of the bed, rose to his feet.

"Ryan, my darling Ryan!" Linus stooped to throw his arms around his friend.

"Linus, you found me." Ryan was a shell of his former self; thin, pale, wraithlike, and his voice had a gasping quality that Linus didn't like one bit. But it was still Ryan's engaging smile, and that tufty hair stuck up as endearingly as it ever had.

"This is Peter," Ryan added, and Linus let go of Ryan long enough to shake hands with the man opposite.

"Hey," Peter said by way of greeting, and his eyes slid past Linus to Ravi, behind him.

"Hey. This is my very good friend Ravi," Linus did the introduction for the benefit of both Peter and Ryan, who had never met Ravi.

As Ravi moved forward for handshakes, Linus took stock of the room for the first time. Ryan was hooked up to various medical machines, but apart from that the small room felt cozy and personable, much more like a bedroom than a hospital room.

There was also the most marvelous view from the window. They were at the back of the building now, high up overlooking the ocean, with no land in sight. Linus looked out at the dark sky, and had the strangest sensation of being on the edge of the globe. He smiled a little at this, knowing that Ryan-Ryan who had traveled so widely and ranged across the globe-would like the idea.

"You've traveled such a long way, Ryan, and here you are at the end of the world."

"Yeah." There was a hoarse laugh in the strained voice. "Shame I can't see it too well anymore."

Linus looked more closely at Ryan's eyes, which were dulled and reddened, and swallowed hard. They all sat down, Peter fluttering a protective hand across Ryan's brow before doing so. _Significant other_, Linus deduced, and was quite ridiculously glad to know that Ryan had found someone else to care about him.

Peter and Ravi stayed mostly quiet and in the background as Linus and Ryan chatted, Ryan's voice a little stronger as he told Linus all about his travels in the US, and how he'd met Peter in San Francisco two years ago. "And he was about to go touring in Canada, so I went too."

"Touring?" Linus inquired.

"I work for a theater company," Peter explained, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm the shop master-a costume designer."

They had gone on vacation afterwards to Alaska, then back to San Francisco, where it appeared that Ryan's health had taken a turn for the worse. (Linus diplomatically didn't ask if Ryan had ever started taking medication again). Eventually Ryan's condition had gotten to the point that he had gone into a hospital.

"And then one day the doctors told me I had about three months to live," Ryan concluded, and although Linus had been expecting something like this, the words still came as a hammer blow. "They suggested I move into a hospice if I could. Peter found me this place."

"Three months?" So little? Linus swallowed hard. "How long ago was that?"

"A month ago," Ryan admitted.

Two months. Linus reached out to grip a bony hand. "My dear boy."

Nurse Nathan stuck his head around the door at that moment, looking apologetic. "It's getting late. You shouldn't tire him out."

Ryan did look very tired, but he said, "You'll come back and see me, Linus?"

"Of course I will be back Ryan, tomorrow, and as often as I possibly can," Linus promised, and stood up. "Sleep tight."

He left the room, followed closely by Ravi, and they paused in the hallway outside. Linus heard Peter talking softly to Ryan, soothing, "I'll see you tomorrow."

When Peter emerged from the room, Linus came straight to the point. "Peter, I am immensely glad that Ryan has you. I do hope I will not be in the way if I stay around. I would hate to leave and intend to come back, only to find I was too late."

"No, it would be great if you could stick around," Peter said, sincerity ringing in his voice. "Honestly. I'm around mornings and most afternoons, but I worry he gets lonely in the evenings when I have to be at the theater. Some afternoons, too, when there's a matinee."

"Then I will come in the evenings," Linus declared, his mind ticking rapidly, thinking of paperwork that could be done from San Francisco, possible meetings with west coast business partners. "That suits me very well, actually, I can do some work during the day. I will have to find a hotel nearby, perhaps you could recommend one?"

"Linus, you can stay with me as long as you want." Ravi's voice was soft as marshmallows. "If you don't mind the drive down from my place to here, that is."

"That is most kind," Linus said fervently.

Peter hesitated, then said, "Ryan often talked about you, Linus. You're negative, right?—he was always amazed that you wanted to be in a relationship with him. "

"He's a special guy." Linus felt a little sheepish.

"He is. I'm positive, by the way," Peter added. "But asymptomatic, for now, at least."

"I am sorry to hear the former, but glad about the latter," Linus declared.

Peter paused at the front desk to have a word with Nurse Nathan, and Linus and Ravi said goodbye and headed outside. Night had fallen while they were indoors, and lamplight dimly guided their way.

"I do hope I won't be an imposition," Linus said to Ravi as they walked down the path towards the car.

"Of course not. It'll be fun having you stay," Ravi said with enthusiasm. "I will have to work some of the time, though. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Linus echoed as they reached the car. They stopped and Linus slipped a hand over the cuff on Ravi's wrist. The studded leather was cold beneath his fingertips. "It will be fun—"

"Queers with AIDS! _QUEERS WITH AIDS!_"

Linus and Ravi both turned in alarm toward sudden hostile shouts, and Linus just had time to register three, no _four_, burly men waving sticks and baseball bats bearing down upon them before suddenly they were right there.

"Get the fuck out of our neighborhood!" one of them bellowed.

There was no time to run, hardly time to brace; Linus smelled beer breath and ragged rage as they came in hard and fast. Linus ducked a fist, Ravi dodged a bat, and then one of their assailants reached into a pocket and brandished a knife in Ravi's direction. The glint of metal sent a molten thread of panic shooting through Linus; not Ravi, not that beautiful face that he depended on for a living-

"No!" Linus lunged forward blindly, then his vision filled with a baseball bat, and everything went black.

* * *

He opened his eyes and everything was white. There was a constant beeping sound. And he hurt all over. Legs, arms, chest-his ribs felt horribly tight, ugh.

He squinted and blinked a bit, and ascertained he was flat on his back looking at a ceiling. He tilted his head with an effort, first forward to confirm he was in a hospital bed, with wires dangling and monitors glowing, then sideways to see a fair-haired man in a checked shirt snoozing in a chair nearby.

"Chris?" Linus tried to say, but his mouth was dry as dust and only a thin wheeze came out.

It was enough to make Chris jump in his chair. His eyes shot open as his head bumped the chair back. "Linus! You're awake!"

"My dear Chris," Linus croaked, much more distinct this time. "Where am I?"

"You're in hospital in Pacifica." Chris scooted his chair closer to Linus's bed.

"And what are you doing here?"

"I'm your emergency contact, remember?" Chris's smile was crooked. "They found my number in your wallet. And the next time you decide to travel three thousand miles to get beaten up by thuggish zealots, perhaps you could warn me first."

Linus started to smile himself, then memory flooded back and he gasped, jolting upright as far as the wires would allow. The beeping monitor suddenly started to pulse faster. "_Ravi!_ My darling Ravi, where is he, is he okay?"

"Ravi is fine," Chris hastened to assure, and the beeps slowed again. "They released him yesterday and he went home to recuperate. He's a bit bruised and battered, like you, and he got quite a cut on the arm before he got the knife away from them-did you know he does martial arts?-which bled like fury, but it wasn't deep. He's quite proud of the scar he's gonna have, says he'll get a tattoo done around it."

"His face?..."

"Just a black eye. It's been two days and the swelling's already going down, he'll be as handsome as ever."

"Thank God," Linus said fervently, settling down into the pillows again.

"Whereas _you_," Chris said severely, "have two fractured ribs. And they bust your nose. And the doctors said you shouldn't have any lasting damage from being hit over the head and knocked out with a baseball bat, but they couldn't be sure until you woke up."

"I will be fine." Linus had no doubts. "Did they catch the fuckers who did it?"

"No," Chris's tone was regretful. "They ran off when the police arrived. But the police know who they are so it's only a matter of time. Your pal Peter was following you out of the hospice and he saw it all, called 911 and there was a cop car only two blocks away."

"The hospice!" Linus's mind was now swimming in competing memories. "Ryan-"

"I went and saw him yesterday," Chris said, and his voice was somber. "Poor Ryan. He was beating himself up about you, saying he should never have gotten back in touch. I assured him you would be fine." There was a short pause. "Good thing you are, or I would never have heard the last of it."

"Chris, honestly," Linus started to burble, but was interrupted.

"Linus, you're awake!" cried a new voice, and there was darling Edward, spectacles askew and hair all on one side as he rushed towards them. Linus held out his arms to be enveloped in a hug, and could not help but utter an _oof _at the pressure on his ribcage. Edward immediately solicitous. "That wasn't too hard, was it? Did I hurt you? I forgot-your ribs-"

"Edward darling, you could never hurt me," Linus assured him drolly.

"I'll go tell the doctor you're awake," Chris said awkwardly, and headed out of the room.

Edward perched on the side of Linus's bed, beaming. "I'm so glad you're okay. Chris has hardly left your bedside, you know. Barely even to go to the bathroom. As soon as he got the call we upped and flew here, and we've been at the hospital ever since."

"The silly boy," Linus murmured, secretly touched.

"He did go see Ryan for a couple of hours, but he made me promise I would sit here the whole time and call him if anything happened." A shadow passed over Edward's face. "Poor Ryan. I haven't seen him, but it sounds bad."

"He only has a couple of months to live," Linus remembered. "I must hurry up and get well enough to see him. I'm going to stay in San Francisco."

"Ravi said you're going to stay with him." Edward nodded and smiled. "That sounds like it could be fun."

* * *

"Did you get a tattoo around your scar, Ravi?" a Kitten asked with breathless excitement.

Ravi shrugged a sleek blazer off his left shoulder to reveal an upper arm with enviable muscle tone and a small, beautiful peacock feather tattoo brimming with color and vitality.

"I don't see a scar," the Kitten ventured.

"You have to feel it," Ravi winked.

Wilson, who was sitting nearest, lifted a hand and traced a finger gently across the inks. His eyes widened a little as he felt the arching raised ridge of skin which ran through the feather pattern. "Wow. That's amazingly well done."

"I waited a long time for it to heal properly first. And Linus paid for it," Ravi remarked, allowing a Kitten to touch his arm. "He got the best tattoo artist in the city."

"I felt rather responsible for putting Ravi in harm's way," Linus confessed, and House let out a snort.

"Responsible for thuggish bigots with baseball bats! Never mind your pal Ryan, that's a guilt complex if I ever saw one." He turned to Ravi. "And _was _it fun, living with this bozo here?"

Ravi looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "I couldn't possibly comment."

END OF PART 9. TBC

* * *

Next part: Linus finds living with Ravi isn't all it's cracked up to be.


	13. Chapter 13: Blowjob Currency

**Title**: Blowjob Currency: Linus and Chris, part 10  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Warning**: Off-screen character death. The obvious one.  
**Beta**: really running out of superlatives now for srsly_yes  
**A/N**: Follows part 9 - to recap; Ryan is dying in an AIDS hospice, and Linus and Ravi just got beaten up by thugs. Parallels the story of Chris and Edward, although no particular storylines.

**Summary**: Linus finds that living with Ravi is much more difficult than he expected.  
**Excerpt**: _He walked into the living room and stopped dead. There was a man on the floor, naked, blindfolded, gagged, curled up in a ball and trussed up like a chicken._

**Blowjob Currency: Linus and Chris, part 10**

"But surely you and Ravi had lived together before, you used to visit each other, go on vacation," Ziggy commented, wrinkling his brow. "Why was living together so different this time?"

"You're quite right, of course." Linus nodded. "The thing is, whenever we'd stayed at each other's houses before, it was for a vacation, really, neither of us working."

"Living three thousand miles apart, it was always quite special to meet and we'd take time out for it," Ravi took up the explanation.

"Ravi would take a month off and come to stay with me in New Jersey, no appointments," Linus mused.

"And when Linus came to see me, we wouldn't stay in San Francisco very long. We'd just use it as a base for a few days before going traveling. He'd never come to live at my house for any length of time before," Ravi completed. "This was different."

"The other thing that made it all very difficult was that I had a broken nose and two cracked ribs, and was in fucking agony a lot of the time," Linus recalled glumly.

"Ah." House propped his leg up on the table. "Constant pain can be a bummer for relationships."

* * *

His nose was painful, but it wasn't a serious injury. Ice treatment brought the swelling down, and he was left with bruising that would fade with time. For the ribs, Linus assumed there would be some medical fix, some kind of bandaging at the very least, but it turned out that fractured ribs were best healed by doing nothing at all.

"I pay exorbitant medical insurance premiums for you to do _nothing_?" Linus demanded.

"We prescribe painkillers," the doctor said. "You're going to need them. You just need to sit as still as you can for a couple of months, take some deep breaths each day to exercise your lungs, and the ribs'll heal just fine by themselves."

"Get Percocet," Chris immediately advised. He'd had that for his broken ankle a while back, Linus recalled.

"But I can't sit still for a couple of months!" Linus said fretfully. Ryan only had that long to live. "I have to visit a friend who's sick, I promised I would visit every day, I need to drive there-"

"Pain'll get better after the first couple of weeks," the doc said laconically. "Til then you might want to get someone else to drive you."

"Oh that's great." Linus was exasperated. This was going to be highly inconvenient.

* * *

On his discharge from hospital, Chris and Edward drove him to Ravi's house, a handsome Victorian home in Corona Heights.

"Lovely house," Edward said admiringly, standing on the sidewalk while his architect's eye scanned mint green walls, clean white trimmings, and decorative period moldings. "I expected Ravi to live somewhere more modern, somehow?"

"Oh, it's ultra-modern inside-_ugh_." Linus turned his neck too quickly as he got out of the car, and the resulting jolt to his chest left him gasping with pain.

"Careful," Chris said redundantly.

Linus had a key. They let themselves in to find Ravi absent, and a scrawled note that said, _Got a photoshoot, sorry, back for dinner._

"A photoshoot?" Edward said curiously, wandering around the living room peering at the solid wooden floor and pale walls. "When we saw him yesterday he had a huge bruise on his cheek, and was talking about going into hiding for a week until it faded."

"If someone offered him work, he'd take it. He's always been one to land on his feet." Linus hobbled across the living room to the nearest armchair, feeling a headache coming on fast.

"We can stay with you until Ravi gets back," Chris said, his eyes tracking Linus with concern.

"Goodness no." Linus said crossly, settling himself in the sleek leather chair. "You have to catch your flight back to New Jersey. And you need to go to my house and send me some paperwork, so I can do something useful while I'm here. I am not an invalid. Just find me my Percocet before you go."

Chris tried to argue, but it was sadly true that Edward had to be back at work the next day, and Chris had a term paper deadline looming for the business degree he was undertaking. They left for the airport, and Linus curled up in the chair in a woozy drug haze.

* * *

Ravi returned a couple of hours later, bearing takeout bags. Linus spirits immediately lifted, and he hauled himself up to greet his friend. "My darling Ravi!"

"Linus, so good to see you!" Ravi was wearing a green and silver scarf wrapped around his neck, and a simple white shirt below with one too many buttons undone. Linus could glimpse bruises between the scarf and the shirt.

Ravi came forward to throw his arms around Linus, but Linus froze, bracing himself for a rib-hurting hug, and Ravi stopped in his tracks.

"The perils of broken bones," Linus mumbled, feeling weak and helpless, and hating it. "Be gentle with me."

Ravi stroked Linus's hair instead, running a finger down Linus's face towards his nose. "No hugs? It's gonna be a long couple of months."

"I am sure we can do things other than hug," Linus said, straight-faced, tugging at Ravi's scarf with the crook of a finger.

Ravi had brought Chinese food, and they settled at the large kitchen table to eat, and chat.

"I've canceled everything for the next week to let this bruising fade a bit, so I can drive you to Ryan's," Ravi explained, spooning out sweet and sour pork. "I will have to work after that, I'm afraid."

"Of course you must," Linus responded automatically, shoveling fried rice into his mouth.

"I am sorry I was not here when you arrived," Ravi apologized. "I ran into a photographer neighbor of mine yesterday, and he took one look at my face and said he had the perfect modeling job for me. He wanted the battered look. Apparently some people go for it. Like heroin chic, you know."

"Really." Linus manipulated chopsticks while scrutinizing photographs that Ravi handed him, Polaroids taken by the photographer while devising his shots. They showed a soulful Ravi modeling a selection of smart-casual shirts and pants, the bruise on his cheek prominently lit, marks on his arms and torso visible. "People are strange."

Part of Linus found the pictures attractive, it was Ravi after all, but for once his brain rather than his dick spoke to him and told him that it wasn't a healthy reaction. He remembered that men were beaten up in real life, some abused by partners (Edward and Preston sprung to mind), and there was nothing attractive about that.

The sweet and sour suddenly tasted sour in his mouth. Linus put the chopsticks down and pushed the photos back toward Ravi. "You know you look divine, Ravi, you always do. But I do hope this bruised look doesn't become a habit. I don't want this photographer to start slapping you around for the sake of his art."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." Ravi stacked the Polaroids neatly.

They went to bed that evening, and Ravi kept the scarf on while losing the rest of his clothes. Linus lay flat on his back on Ravi's large four-poster bed, trying to keep his chest still while bucking his hips, his breathing quick and shallow as Ravi turned rodeo rider. The green and silver scarf swished and dipped, and the rib pain dimmed in the face of a long, ecstatic rush.

* * *

"It's so good of you to stay in San Francisco to see me," Ryan said, gripping Linus's hand. "I couldn't believe it when Peter told me you and Ravi had gotten beaten up. I knew that group had been causing the hospice lots of problems, but I didn't realize they were...violent."

"It is no problem, and the police have now managed to catch the men," Linus assured him. "Ziggy is keeping me updated, he has a pal in the San Francisco PD. The hospice has been keeping a log of their activities, and I have every hope they'll go to jail."

Although it wasn't terribly convenient to stay in San Francisco, it was worth it to see Ryan every day, and Linus was rather looking forward to an extended period living with Ravi.

Linus settled himself into a routine, spending daytime sitting around Ravi's house trying not to move any more than necessary for the sake of his ribs. He read books, watched TV, ate Percocet, and tried to do some work on the company reports and accounts which Chris FedExed to him. Meanwhile Ravi habitually spent a lot of his day working on looking good, and Linus watched with some amusement as his friend hurried off to sessions of personal training at the gym, appointments at the hair stylist, manicures, pedicures, facials and dental treatments.

In the late afternoon Ravi drove him to Pacifica to the hospice, where Linus enjoyed chatting to Ryan and some of the other patients, bantering with the doctors and nurses (especially Nurse Nathan, who always seemed to be around when Linus was there). Ravi also came to see Ryan a couple of times, but usually dropped Linus off and came back later to pick him up.

The drive was not far, but it was more than Linus could cope with on his own. Most of the time, his ribs didn't hurt. But just when he thought _ah, this isn't so bad after all,_ he'd cough or laugh, sit down or stand up too quickly, or just take a deep breath, and the sudden pain was crippling.

* * *

After a week, Ravi apologized and said he didn't think Linus should rely on him for lifts anymore, as he had to work, and the jobs from his escort agency tended to be evening appointments. Deciding not to try and drive himself around just yet, Linus decided he would make an arrangement with a local cab firm to pick him up each day and take him home afterwards.

"Also," Ravi warned, "I have a few appointments lined up during the day which I'd rather not break."

"Of course." Linus assumed this must be porn movie work on a set somewhere. "You just go whenever you have to, don't worry about me. Is this _Middle Earth Men_?"

A director whom Ravi had worked with a number of times in the past had developed a Tolkein obsession. On the discovery that _The Knobit_ and _Lord of the Cock Rings_ had already been made, he had devised his own elaborate if loosely-scripted trilogy and cast Ravi as an Elf. Linus was looking forward to seeing these movies at some point.

"That starts shooting in a couple of weeks time, yes. But also some of my, um, clients..." Ravi looked up at the ceiling. "...come and see me here. At home."

"Really?" Linus was surprised. "I thought you always met your dates in restaurants and bars."

"New people, escort work arranged by the agency, always in public places," Ravi assured him. "But I have some customers who I have known a very long time, I trust them and they trust me. They like to visit me here at my home, it makes them feel like they're calling on a friend. They leave money as if it's a present they're leaving behind, rather than a fee."

"Well, each to their own." Linus wasn't one to criticize. "Give me a bit of warning, and I'll get out of your way."

* * *

The first such appointment Ravi had was an agency one, with a businessman from out of town apparently looking for company. Ravi set off for a restaurant the same time as Linus caught his cab to the hospice. Linus spent a pleasant evening with Ryan, got back at eleven PM, and wasn't particularly surprised that Ravi wasn't home yet.

He took a Percocet and went to bed, but found himself tossing and turning, waiting for Ravi...

By four AM, Linus had worked himself into a state of near hysteria, convinced that Ravi had been raped and murdered and had his body thrown in the ocean where it would never be found. And then there came the sound of a key in the front door. Linus breathed deeply, shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep as Ravi came into the bedroom, treading quietly, and got into bed.

The following morning, Linus was breakfasting at the kitchen table when Ravi came in, all sleep-disheveled and adorable.

"You got in pretty late last night," Linus said as casually as he could. "Hot date? You go back to his hotel?"

"Naw." Ravi yawned as he plumped himself down on a stool. "He wanted to go clubbing, so I took him to an after-hours bar and we danced for a while. Then he hooked up with this other guy and I bowed out. I guess it was pretty late."

Part of Linus wanted to shout _Didn't you realize I would worry? _But this was Ravi's life, he didn't have any right to criticize; he held his tongue and poured coffee instead.

* * *

Two days later, Ravi warned Linus that he had a client coming to visit in the late afternoon, if Linus wouldn't mind leaving for the hospice a little early?

"Of course," Linus said, ignoring a small niggling sensation in his stomach, and duly ordered his cab an hour earlier than usual.

At the appointed time, there came the sound of the cab honking outside. Knowing Ravi was up in the roof garden sunning himself, and not wanting to strain his ribs going upstairs to say goodbye, Linus simply called out, "Bye, Ravi!" and shuffled toward the front door.

As he reached for the handle, the doorbell rang; Linus opened the door to find a tall man with a shaved head standing only a couple of inches away. What made the situation suddenly seem ultra-bizarre was that the man was holding a bunch of _flowers_. Purple ones, peonies, Linus thought.

The man looked even more surprised to see Linus than Linus was to see him. This, Linus realized, must be the client Ravi was waiting for-hadn't Ravi said people brought him presents? Flowers, though? That seemed like a romantic kind of gesture-

"Where's Ravi?" the man asked unceremoniously.

"I'm here, baby," Ravi called from inside, behind Linus.

"Excuse me." Linus elbowed his way past the man-whom he immediately mentally christened _Baby_-and out onto the curb.

As the door closed behind him, he heard Baby say loudly to Ravi, "Who's the fat guy? Did you break his nose?"

Linus paused on the sidewalk, steam coming out of his ears. The rude _bastard_. It took a lot to make Linus angry, he was naturally peace-loving, and the way Chris could explode with fury at the drop of a hat was completely alien to him. But right now, if he'd had Baby in front of him, Linus could easily have broken _his_ nose.

His rage faded as the cab took him away, but it was replaced by something worse; the realization that Baby had taken him for just another of Ravi's clients. Linus wanted to find Baby and tell him that he, Linus, was special; he was a friend of Ravi's, not a patron; had never brought flowers or paid Ravi for anything-well, maybe the odd gift-that silver watch-a vacation now and again-

Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Linus sank into a mire of misery, and felt ugly behind his broken nose. He _was_ no different from Baby.

He had never been one to bottle things up, so when he got to the hospice he told Ryan about Baby, making an amusing anecdote out of it. Bald guy with flowers, Ravi called him _baby_, he called Linus _fat_, ha ha ha.

Ryan's mind was still shrewd behind its ravaged exterior, though. "Sounds like-a charmer," he exhaled through straining lungs. "Hope you-got your own back-for the fat thing."

"I wish I had," Linus admitted, stroking Ryan's hand, noticing purple veins standing out against pale skin. "The door closed before I could do anything. Never mind, eh."

He refrained from saying anything about Baby to Ravi when he got back, conscious that he might sound almost as if he was being, well, possessive. Jealous, even. And Linus was _never_ jealous.

* * *

Three days after that, Ravi had another home visit from a client, and this one took Linus by surprise. He had been out shopping that afternoon, and had intended to go straight to Ryan's. He found he'd forgotten his Percocet though, and asked the cab to head back to Ravi's. He let himself in, calling, "Hey," as he walked in the door, but there was no response.

He walked into the living room and stopped dead. There was a man on the floor, naked, blindfolded, gagged, curled up in a ball and trussed up like a chicken.

Linus stood still for a few seconds, wondering if he was dreaming, then ventured forward cautiously. Closer up, he could see the man was also wearing earplugs, which explained why he hadn't heard Linus's _hey_. The stranger's thighs were pressed close against his chest, but Linus rather thought he could see a hard-on in there somewhere.

Fucking hell! What on earth was this?

He retreated and headed towards the kitchen, which was at the back of the house. He half expected to find Ravi similarly trussed up, but no, there he was sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. And listening to music with earphones on, which was why he hadn't heard Linus come in either.

"Ravi!" Linus said loudly as he approached. Ravi looked up, his expression both surprised and pleased, and he slipped off the earphones.

"Linus, I thought you were going straight to Ryan's-"

"So did I. Ravi, there's a man in your living room!" Linus swiveled his arms around helplessly. "He's...I don't even know what he is!"

"That's Guy, he's an old regular of mine," Ravi assured him.

"You... tie him up like that and just leave him there?"

"That's his kink," Ravi said, like it was so obvious it didn't even need to be said. "He likes the sensory-deprived helpless abandoned feeling, and he trusts me to let him go in the end. He usually comes while I'm untying him, I can't even remember the last time I even had to do anything else."

"How can... how can you just sit here reading with a naked man tied up in the next room?" Linus heard his voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "How can you live in a place with naked men tied up in your living room!"

"I hadn't forgotten about him." Ravi's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem, Linus? It sounds almost like you're judging me."

Linus, who prided himself on never judging anyone (at least, not on matters of sexual habits) was temporarily rendered speechless.

"I've been walking on eggshells around you recently, honestly, it's driving me up the wall!" Ravi continued, getting to his feet as his voice also rose. "I thought you were cool with all this! You've always been so cool about all this, I don't understand..."

When Linus did manage to speak, the words that emerged were completely unplanned.

"I'm in love with you," Linus blurted out.

A shockwave ran through his body as he realized what he'd said.

"You love everybody." Ravi's reaction was knee-jerk and heartfelt. "Look, I love you too-"

"No. I'm _in_ love with you. That's different."

Ravi stood very still, then said, "What are you saying, Linus? You can't live without me? You want me to give up porn and escort work and come live with you in New Jersey? It's not going to happen, you know that, don't you?"

"I know. That doesn't-that doesn't make it easy." Linus struggled to get the words out.

_"Shit!" _Ravi threw up his hands, his face convulsed with angry dismay. "_Fuck!_ What do you expect me to say? What do you want me to do? Why bring this up now? Why spoil what we have?"

Linus, who hadn't cried since he was a child, suddenly felt the dreadful sensation of tears welling up behind his eyelids. Shocked at himself, he turned on his heel and left. Fortunately his cab was still waiting outside.

* * *

Linus would have told Ryan what had happened, except he arrived at the hospice to find Peter there; there was no theater performance that evening, so he was free to be with Ryan. Linus didn't want to confide in a comparative stranger, and instead swallowed his feelings and sat down with the two of them to chat.

He left Ryan's room a couple of hours later, excusing himself on grounds of rib pain, but it was in fact inner wretchedness that was cramping his gut. He stopped in the corridor and leaned his forehead against the cool white wall.

"I thought Ryan was having a good day," a voice said behind him.

Linus lifted his head and looked around at Nurse Nathan, who was wearing a coat rather than his usual scrubs. "He is. It's me who's not having a good day."

"Fight with the boyfriend?" Nathan asked lightly, pulling his coat collar up.

Linus was surprised, then realized what Nathan meant. "Ravi? He's not my boyfriend, but yes, we had a fight."

"Ah." Nathan nodded. "Look, I'm just going off-shift. You look like you need a drink, wanna go get one?"

* * *

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to something else entirely. Somehow Linus found himself back at Nurse Nathan's apartment, Nathan bent over his bed and Linus fucking him from behind. He remembered it afterwards as a hot panting encounter experienced through an alcohol-fuddled haze; Nathan demanding _more, harder, please, oh yeah_, Linus responding as the adrenalin and hormones rose to block chest pain and pure misery.

He woke the following morning with sunlight assaulting his eyelids, and opened them to find he had no idea where this strange bedroom was. Then Nurse Nathan bustled in with a mug of coffee, and recollections rushed in with a vengeance.

"My dear Nathan," Linus said feebly, sitting up to take the coffee. "About last night. I must apologize-"

"No need to apologize for anything," Nathan said briskly, moving around the bed, plumping up pillows. "I had a great time."

Linus sipped coffee for a while and let painkillers take effect, then the realization that he had no transportation urged him up to hitch a lift to the hospice with Nathan. The nurse drove in at a side entrance Linus hadn't noticed before, into a small staff parking lot.

"I must find a hotel," Linus thought aloud as they went into the building. "Can you recommend anywhere nearby?"

"You could stay with me," Nathan offered, pushing open the door into the reception. "It'd be no trouble."

Linus sensed something of a crush, and knew it would be best not to feed it, but the ease of the solution appealed. "That's very kind. Maybe I will."

Nathan beamed, and leaned in for a kiss as the door closed behind them. Linus reciprocated, they walked through the reception room together, and it was only when Nathan broke away and headed off past the desk that Linus suddenly became aware of a slender figure sitting frozen in a chair nearby, hugging his knees to his chest.

_"Ravi?" _Linus realized, too late.

Ravi was already getting up and walking towards the door.

Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck! _Linus was rooted to the spot for a minute, mortified. By the time he regained his wits enough to hurry outside, Ravi was already out of the gate and getting into his sleek black car. Linus cursed Nurse Nathan's privileged parking spot; if only they'd parked out front, he would have seen the car on the way in...

"Ravi, please!" Linus reached the car window as Ravi started the engine. "It's not what it looks like-"

"It's _not?"_ Ravi demanded, his cheeks flushed pink with rare anger. "Then tell me you didn't fuck him last night."

Linus couldn't deny it. He hung his head. "Ravi..."

Ravi released the handbrake and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Linus was strongly tempted to sit down in the middle of the road and wait to be run over, or perhaps disemboweled by a passing mob. But neither seemed likely to happen immediately, and Linus remembered that he was supposed to be here for Ryan. He couldn't spare the luxury of dying right now.

The one good thing about the encounter with Ravi was to make Linus realize most forcibly that it would not be a good idea to stay with Nurse Nathan. He found a nearby hotel instead, went shopping for clothes and toiletries, and settled himself in as best he could. It was a nice hotel, but felt bleak and soulless compared to Ravi's apartment.

Mired in gloom, Linus checked the time in New Jersey and made a call. Chris picked up straight away.

"My dear Chris," Linus began despondently. "You wouldn't believe the mess I've got myself into."

"Is Ryan very bad?" Chris asked, voice filled with concern, and Linus mentally smacked himself on the head.

"No, he's not too bad, in the circumstances. I'm afraid I'm just being appallingly selfish about my own pathetic problems, which are all completely of my own making."

"Go on." Chris sounded like he was putting his feet up on his desk. Linus pictured Chris comfortably ensconced in his office, and envied him. Linus suddenly missed New Jersey with a sharp, painful pang behind his tender rib cage. But he couldn't go home, not yet...

He related to Chris about life with Ravi, their fight and his regrettable retreat into the arms of Nurse Nathan.

"Why'd he run out when he saw you with Nurse Nathan, anyway?" was Chris's immediate reaction. "He's not the jealous type."

"No, but really, Chris, I must have driven him mad with worry after our fight, he didn't know where I'd gone, he'd come all the way out to the hospice to look for me, maybe waited all night in that reception... only to find I'd fallen straight into bed with someone else." Spelling it out made Linus feel bad all over again.

"Ravi knows you too well to worry about Nurse Nathan, he'll forget that really quickly," Chris said with assurance. "He'll be worrying about your declaration of love. You gotta deal with that." Pause. "You don't _really_ want him to give up the porn and stuff and move to New Jersey, do you?"

"No." Yes. "Well, maybe, but I was being stupid. That's his job, it's the nature of blowjob currency," Linus sighed.

"Yeah." There was a rustling sound. "Hey, Edward's just come in. _Edward! _I've got Linus on the phone."

"Linus!" came a new voice, and next thing Edward was on other end of the line, chattering about the Victorian house he was doing up, inspired by Ravi's interiors. Linus listened and laughed, and felt waves of uncomplicated goodwill coming down the line that warmed his heart.

* * *

"You must make up with Ravi," Ryan's advice that evening was clear even though his breathing was shallow, quick and ragged.

"How do I do that?" Linus was despondent. "If I go back to his house I'm liable to find naked men waving bunches of flowers and hanging from the rafters, or something."

"Make a date with him," Ryan suggested. "Through the escort agency. Isn't that how you met?"

That... could work. "It was indeed."

"Make a date with him for Tuesday night," Ryan went on. "You don't need to come see me that evening, Peter's bringing some of his theater people to see me. I know them from the Canadian tour. He says they want to sing a bit of _Sweet Charity _to me, that's their current production."

"How marvelous." Linus was sincere, and lost in thought for a moment until Ryan's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Linus, can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Peter... wants to write to my parents to tell them when I die. I've asked him not to. Can you stop him?"

"Ryan, darling." Linus inwardly struggled with this request. "I will talk to him if you want, but I can't stop him writing a letter if he wants to."

"I don't want anyone to write to them." Ryan closed his eyes and suddenly looked very frail indeed.

* * *

Linus called the escort company to make a dinner date with Ravi for Tuesday evening. He considered giving a false name, but rejected that, deciding he should give Ravi the chance to decline. But no; the call back came, Ravi would be very happy to meet him for dinner, and would he like to pay by Visa, Mastercard, or Amex, _thankyouverymuchsir._...

Tuesday came, and Linus got to the restaurant half an hour before the reservation, knowing Ravi also liked to arrive early. He was ready and waiting, and had downed a glass of wine already, when Ravi appeared at the table.

"My dear Ravi." Linus stood to greet his friend, and couldn't help but gape a little. Ravi was wearing almost no jewelry, which was most unusual. No earrings, no neck chains, no cufflinks. Just a watch; a small, beautiful silver wristwatch that Linus had bought him several Christmases ago.

"My dear Linus," Ravi echoed, and they both smiled.

A waiter poured a glass of wine for Ravi, and once he had gone, Ravi said immediately, "The night we first met, I told you I didn't do _boyfriend_ very well. I guess now you know why."

"I do," Linus agreed. "You also told me you did _friends with benefits_ very well. As you do."

"I don't want to lose that." Ravi spoke simply.

"Nor do I." Linus took a deep breath, and opened his heart. "I thought playing house with you would be like being a couple living together, but of course it wasn't. The thing is, Ravi, I know I'm a lucky man, I have incredible friends and I've had some wonderful boyfriends. But I look at Chris and Edward and what they have together, I'm even privileged enough to share in some of it, yet at the same time... it makes me realize what I don't have. It sounds hopelessly pathetic, I know, but I want to find The One, as Chris did... "

"You will find your One," Ravi assured him. "It's not me. But you don't need to feel lonely with me around."

"I know." Linus nodded, feeling an unexpected weight off his chest that had nothing to do with his healing ribs. He picked up his menu. "Shall we order?"

* * *

It was wonderful to have the air clear again after the storm, and suddenly everything seemed new and fresh and sweet. They enjoyed a leisurely meal. Linus solemnly asked after Baby and Guy the trussed-up chicken man, Ravi teased Linus about Nurse Nathan, and they both batted eyelashes and nudged each other. Ravi asked if Peter was with Ryan this evening, Linus hummed a bit of _Sweet Charity _as he explained, and together they sadly pondered his request that nobody write to his parents.

"I'm off the agency's time now," Ravi said as they left the restaurant, sliding a surreptitious hand onto Linus's ass. "My place? I promise there are no trussed-up chicken men waiting."

They went back to Ravi's house, and later Linus would muse that the sex they had that evening was the best he had ever had with Ravi, with anyone (and that was saying something). They went up to Ravi's bedroom, and spent a half hour just undressing each other, removing each piece of clothing with sweet loving care, reveling in each new patch of skin uncovered.

When Ravi was naked except for the silver wristwatch, Linus took his cock in his mouth and spent every ounce of skill and technique he possessed into giving the perfect blowjob; full in his mouth, as much as he could take, then lapping gently at the tip, teasing a little, then making sure he followed through, with a finger up the ass at _just_ the right moment, Ravi came with an earthy cry and collapsed in a heap.

"Best-ever," he mumbled a minute later, and Linus believed him, and allowed himself to bask in pride.

He took Ravi up the ass first from behind, then they switched so they were facing, sitting on the bed joined as closely as they ever could be. Linus clutched at Ravi's shoulders and buried his face in Ravi's chest, Ravi panting and sweating as he raised and lowered himself on Linus's cock. The sensation was both awe-inspiringly beautiful and painful with ever heightened anticipation, until Linus could not hold off any longer.

They fell together sideways onto the bed, and Linus slumped into a delicious, dream-free slumber.

But in the middle of the night, he was woken by a bell; his cellphone ringing on the nightstand. Linus groped for the handset, and as soon as he heard the voice on the other end of the line, he knew it was bad news.

"Linus? It's Peter. I'm afraid that Ryan... is not so good. He can't breathe by himself any more and they've put him on a ventilator. You...might want to come down."

* * *

"At the end, it was really very quick," Linus said somberly. "Ravi and I drove down in record time. Ryan recognized me when we arrived, and I held his hand for a while, but the pneumonia had just broken down the last of whatever feeble defenses he had left. Peter was a rock, hardly stopped talking to him, being upbeat but serious right to the end. Ryan passed on a couple of hours later, we were all with him."

"Did Peter write to Ryan's parents?" a Kitten asked.

"He did. He got back this stiff little note saying _thank-you for letting us know, but our son Ryan was dead to us years ago_," Linus quoted grimly, and felt his audience rock with angry sorrow.

"Edward and I flew in for the funeral," Chris changed the subject, his voice carefully not showing too much emotion. "It was awesome. The whole theater company came. They all dressed up and sang, _Sweet Charity_."

"They did a special benefit performance for the hospice, too, in Ryan's memory," Linus said proudly. "They raised a lot of money."

"Almost as much as Linus gave them," Ravi remarked, _sotto voce_. Linus glared at him, but he went on, addressing the assembled company. "He endowed a bed. There's a room now with a plate with his name on the door."

"And what happened to Peter?" Brian asked, sparing Linus's blushes.

"I'm pleased to say Peter took advantage of modern medicine and remained asymptomatic for a long time," Linus hastened to draw attention away from himself. "But it caught up with him a couple of years ago, and like Ryan, he then got worse very fast. He had a good support network and the hospice gave him excellent care at the end."

There was a respectful pause as the gathering acknowledged Peter.

"And of course I found my One in the end," Linus murmured, and watched Raul's coal black eyes glisten with warmth.

END OF PART 10. TBC

**A/N**: For the tiny but loyal audience following this fic, I reckon on two more parts.


	14. Chapter 14: Uncle Linus

**Title**: Uncle Linus: Linus and Chris, part 11  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, Ziggy  
**Beta**: srsly_yes indispensible to this fic  
**A/N**: Parallels the story of Chris and Edward, but no specific storylines. This part inspired by a comment of hibernia1

**Summary**: Linus remembers the times he encountered his honorary nephew Tommy.  
**Excerpt**: _"We have some entertainment tonight," Julio informed him as they sat down. "I hired a group of dancers recently who have gone down very well. In more than one sense."_

**Uncle Linus: Linus and Chris, part 11**

Telling Ryan's story had left Linus feeling somber and in need of a more light-hearted story to entertain the group (which seemed inexplicably reluctant to drift away). He was racking his brain when he heard House addressing Ziggy in a tone of admiration.

"Hey, you've got odd eyes. _Heterochromia iridis_. Very unusual."

Ziggy nodded, blinking. Linus had long since ceased to notice anything unusual in Ziggy's appearance, but other people turned and leaned forward to look at his mismatched dark brown and hazel eyes.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" House queried, and at a further nod, went on, "It can be caused by trauma. I bet someone did you an injury that caused it."

"Nope."

"Disease then. Horner's syndrome, as a child."

"Actually, I was born with it. It runs in the family," Ziggy explained. "Remember Tommy, Linus?"

"How could I forget," Linus exclaimed, and as the assembled company raised a collective eyebrow, he went on, "Tommy is Ziggy's nephew. Lovely boy, very handsome. Has the most amazing eyes-one brown, one blue."

* * *

The first time Linus met Tommy was a long time ago. Way back before Chris had met Edward. Linus hadn't known Ziggy that long, six months maybe. They'd instituted a regular golf game once a week and were due to meet when Ziggy called the day before to say he had his teenage nephew staying with him. Did Linus mind if he tagged along?

"The more the merrier," Linus declared, curious to meet someone from Ziggy's family. "Which nephew is this?"

Ziggy was almost as closemouthed about his family as he was about his sex life, but Linus recalled he had two brothers and two sisters, one older and one younger than him in each case. All had married and spawned their own set of children, and most seemed to have careers in law enforcement.

"Tommy is my older sister's youngest," Ziggy explained. "He's thirteen. They think he might be gay-y'know, being quiet and not into sports at that age _must_ mean that-so they've packed him off to visit the pink sheep of the family, to get my view."

Linus adored the description. "You're the pink sheep?" The image was nothing like his own perception of Ziggy. After all, Ziggy was tall and strong and masculine; he was a cop, he sometimes acted mean, he carried a gun and arrested bad guys...

"At family gatherings, yeah that's me," Ziggy said, a touch of humor apparent in his voice. "See you tomorrow."

Linus was not acquainted with any other thirteen year olds, but Tommy seemed an entirely typical adolescent to him; speaking in mumbles, embarrassed by his contrasting eyes and looking at the ground most of the time, shuffling along as he walked. He was tall but gawky and gangly, not yet comfortable in his growing body.

He had never played golf before, and was obviously reluctant to give it a go, but picked it up quickly. Ziggy and Linus gave him tips as they went along, and by the final hole he seemed almost to be enjoying himself.

"Bravo!" Linus applauded as the ball rolled into the hole, and Tommy actually smiled.

"Thanks, Uncle Linus," he said, and Linus nearly fell over with astonishment. Tommy saw his expression, and added, "Sorry, you don't mind if I call you that?"

"Not at all." Actually it sounded rather good. Linus rolled it around his head: _Uncle Linus_. Well, it wasn't as if he was going to have nephews any other way, he might as well adopt one of Ziggy's. "I'm just not used to it. Uncle Linus it is."

Ziggy chortled as he packed clubs into a bag.

They went to the clubhouse to get lunch, and between bites of burger Tommy queried, "So you don't have any nephews, or nieces?"

"No, I don't have any brothers or sisters," Linus explained, sprinkling salt over fries. "Not much family at all really, compared to you. I have four great-aunts who brought me up, and that's it."

"Really." Tommy pondered this. "What happened to your parents?"

_"Tommy!"_ Ziggy admonished with a glare.

"That's okay, I don't mind," Linus assured him. "My mother died giving birth to me, Tommy. She was forty-five, old to be having a first child, and she had health problems too. My aunts tell me her doctors had advised a termination, which she refused."

"Wow." Tommy was round-eyed. "She loved you so much that she gave her life for you."

"Indeed," Linus said sadly. "And she took the secret of my father to her grave. When I was your age I used to think he would come and find me one day, turn up on the doorstep with a new bike and a remote control car... or that maybe I would be given a sealed letter with his name when I got to my sixteenth birthday, or my eighteenth...

"But you didn't?"

"Nope." Linus kept his voice deliberately light. "Eventually I realized it just wasn't going to happen. Either he never knew I existed, or he knew but he didn't want any involvement, and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't ever going to have a father and that was that."

The words came out with more feeling than he'd intended.

"You can have me as your nephew instead," Tommy said eventually. Ziggy reached out and gave his nephew a pat on the head, ruffled his hair.

* * *

The second time Linus met Tommy was four years later, when he got the same phone call. This time, Ziggy explained ruefully, Tommy himself had decided he was gay, gotten very upset at this realization, and come running to his Uncle Ziggy for help. "Just call me Agony Uncle."

"What is he now, seventeen?" Linus asked. "Is he actually gay or going through a confused phase?"

"I reckon he knows what he is," Ziggy said tactfully. "Funny, his mom and dad had just decided they were wrong and he wasn't. I think because he took up field hockey last year."

"I look forward to meeting him again," Linus said sincerely.

He hardly recognized the young man in dark glasses who turned up at the golf course with Ziggy. Tommy had developed the muscle bulk to match his height, and was close to being a fully fledged young man.

"Hey, Uncle Linus!" was his greeting, in a voice much deeper than before, and Linus beamed with pleasure.

The game of golf was more closely contested this time, as Tommy had the strength and more of the skill of his elders this time around. They were on the eleventh hole when Ziggy mis-hit a long shot, and cursed as his ball bounced away into the rough. Linus was watching him heading off to look for it when Tommy asked a question.

"Are you Uncle Ziggy's...partner?" Tommy stumbled at the word.

Linus was amused. "No, I'm his friend."

"_Just_ a friend?" Tommy queried. "I mean, that's what he said when I asked him, but I thought...he might be being diplomatic or something."

"Just friends," Linus assured him. "Just 'cause we're both gay doesn't mean we have to go around boning each other."

"Uh huh." Tommy stared through his sunglasses at Ziggy, who was rooting through undergrowth some way away. "I guess I don't know many gay people."

"You should meet my good friend Chris," Linus said cheerfully. "We've known each other for years, even longer than I've known your Uncle Ziggy, and we've always been just friends. He has the most gorgeous boyfriend, Edward."

"I don't want to be gay," Tommy blurted out. "I don't know anyone else who is at school. I don't want to be different. It's bad enough having these fucking weird eyes. People say I look like a cat."

The poor kid. Linus recalled his own ghastly schooldays with a shudder. Children could be so cruel.

"All I can say, Tommy, is you have beautiful eyes which you shouldn't hide behind those glasses. Hang in there." Linus tried to think what had happened to him. "School may be hellish, but you'll be going to college in a year or so, right? You should choose some place a long way from home-a big city, with a decent scene-and maybe you'll find you're not so different after all."

"Is that what you did?" Tommy's voice was tremulous.

"Yes." Linus kept it simple, as Ziggy was heading back toward them, and the subject was changed.

* * *

They headed towards the clubhouse afterwards, intending to get a late lunch in the restaurant there, but then Linus had a bright idea. "Let's go to the steakhouse for lunch, it will be lovely down by the Jersey shore, and perhaps you can meet the friend I mentioned to you, Tommy, Chris. He owns the place, and he's often there on Tuesdays."

Tommy was enthusiastic and Ziggy agreed, but before they could set off, Ziggy took a call on his cell that made him frown and walk off to have a private conversation. He returned a few minutes later to say an important arrest had been made and he had to go into work.

"I shouldn't be long. Linus, if you don't mind taking Tommy to the steakhouse in your car, I'll join you as soon as you can."

So Linus drove his honorary nephew down to the steakhouse, and was pleased to find they arrived just as a family was vacating the prime table by the big window. He and Tommy settled down, Tommy admiring the ocean view.

"Hey," said a familiar voice as Linus was discussing the wine list with the waiter, and Linus turned to see Chris hovering by their table. He was wearing leather pants, a chunky metal watch, and a crisp white T-shirt cut off at the arms to show off his shoulders. Linus waved at him to sit down and join them, while he finished his discussion with the waiter.

He turned his attention back to the table just in time to hear Chris asking Tommy, "So how did you two meet?"

Linus felt his face burst into flame. _Fuck! _Chris thought they were a couple! Linus had never been more mortified in his life. Of course he had something of a reputation for consorting with much younger men, damnit. If this got back to Ziggy-

Fortunately Tommy was looking amused rather than appalled. He took off his dark glasses and spoke up. "Oh, we're not together! Uncle Linus is an old family friend."

"Tommy is Ziggy's nephew," Linus hastened to add, glaring bullets into Chris's skull.

Chris had the grace to look embarrassed, but couldn't hide his amusement. "Oh, right, I see, well, _Uncle_ Linus, do you want to order?"

The meal was excellent, of course, and Tommy was loud with praise for his steak. In fact he told Chris a couple of times what a great restaurant he had, and Linus soon discerned that young Tommy had taken something of a shine to Chris.

Linus did a mental eye-roll, thinking he should have realized that his tall, fair, fit friend would be irresistible to an impressionable teen. The good thing, though, was that Tommy hadn't put the glasses back on. He seemed to want to talk to Chris without them.

"Chris, might the lovely Edward be able to join us, or is he working today?" Linus asked at one point, thinking it might be a good idea to remind all parties that Chris had a boyfriend.

"He is working, but not in the office." Chris looked at his watch. "He's on site visits today and he said he might drop by here for lunch."

Between main course and dessert, Linus excused himself to go to the bathroom, and as he came out of the door he found Chris lurking outside.

"What's the story with Tommy?" Chris asked, keeping a low voice although they could both see Tommy sitting at the table some way away.

"He's staying with Ziggy for a little while to work through some teenage angst. He's confused about his sexuality," Linus explained. "What do you think?"

"I think," Chris said slowly and deliberately, "If I said the word, he'd let me take him home and bust that cute little virgin ass of his."

_"Chris!" _Linus stuttered with horrified anger. He had no doubt that Ziggy had left him _in loco parentis, _and that did not mean letting young Tommy getting his ass busted by a guy nearly twice his age. "Let me remind you that Ziggy has a gun."

"I'm kidding!" Chris slapped Linus on the shoulder. "Wow, you've really lost your sense of humor."

"It's not funny!" Linus stormed, and went back to the table. Chris followed, grinning.

A few minutes later Edward came bustling in, all smiles and floppy hair. He sat down next to Chris. Chris leaned across to kiss him on the lips, and Linus noticed Tommy watching intently. Maybe, Linus supposed, it was the first time young Tommy had seen two men display such affection in public. Chris was usually more circumspect, but this was his restaurant after all, and it was pretty quiet this late in the afternoon...

Edward settled himself in his chair, looked from Tommy to Linus and back again. And then Edward asked with superb innocence, "So, how did you two meet?"

Chris sat back in his chair and roared with laughter.

* * *

Over the next few years, Linus periodically thought to ask Ziggy how his nephew was, and was vaguely pleased to hear that he'd gone away to university to study math somewhere on the West Coast, a long way from home.

Linus hadn't thought about young Tommy in a long, long time though, when an unexpected encounter occurred. Linus had been working very hard on a complex property deal which had left him both exhausted and flush with cash. He decided to jet down to Florida and crash with Julio for a few days.

"I need to get laid, Julio," Linus declared, as they walked into Julio's club on the first evening. "I've been getting altogether too familiar with my right hand recently."

"I would be most surprised if we can't arrange that, Linus," Julio surveyed his surroundings with some satisfaction. The place was bustling with men in a variety of interesting outfits. Julio's club was rather like Chris's, but with a rather more alternative clientele, as befitted its location on the seamier side of South Beach.

"Bring it on." Linus could hardly wait.

"We have some entertainment tonight," Julio informed him as they sat down. "I hired a group of dancers recently who have gone down very well. In more than one sense." He winked.

Six splendidly fit young men, each clad in a variant of leather, pranced and wiggled their way around the stage. Linus sighed with contentment and sat back to enjoy the show. Bronzed flesh gleamed through straps and mesh. One young man was in long leather pants, and bare-chested; another in a small pair of shorts and a ripped vest. A couple wore jockstraps, showing off tempting bulges within. All wore identical high-laced black boots, and stomped their way merrily through the thumping music.

They broke formation after the first number, and started to dance their way around the audience. The one who headed in Linus's general direction was wearing the kinkiest gear of the lot, a black leather hood that fitted over his entire head, with small holes cut for eyes and nose.

"Come to Papa," Linus muttered, and Julio chortled beside him. The dancer reached their table, flexing enviable biceps and rippling juicy abs. He paused at Linus's chair to thrust his crotch forward, but suddenly his whole body jerked backwards.

Startled, Linus dragged his gaze upward from the groin area, and saw one brown eye and one blue eye staring through the mask.

"Uncle Linus?" said a muffled voice.

Linus reached forward, and tweaked off the hood. _"Tommy!" _

He could hardly believe it. The gangly kid had grown up into the most splendid male specimen imaginable. Fit and handsome and pert in all the right places.

And yet, Linus lost his hard-on in an instant, feeling it deflate like a punctured balloon.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked.

"What am _I _doing here? What are you doing here?" Linus spluttered. "Is this how young people work their way through college these days?"

"I'm-" Tommy began, but stopped at a shout from one of his fellow dancers, who were making their way back toward the stage. "Look, I'll catch you afterwards, Uncle Linus, okay? Maybe we can get some food?"

"Yeah!" Linus barely had the presence of mind to get out a reply.

* * *

They caught up over a late dinner. Tommy had, Linus learned, graduated and gone on to do further study on the East Coast. He was now the ripe old age of twenty-four and working on a PhD.

"I did exactly what you suggested, Uncle Linus," Tommy said, munching pizza. "Went to university, met lots of awesome people. It was difficult for a while, but in the end I found out I wasn't such a freak after all."

"Do your parents know?" Linus asked cautiously.

"Yeah, they're cool, much more so than I thought they would be. They say I must have Uncle Ziggy's genes."

"Do they know you do _this?_" Linus plucked at the leather hood, lying on the table in front of them.

"Hell no!" Tommy looked alarmed, and hastily changed the subject. "You know, it was so great visiting you and Uncle Ziggy all those years ago. Tell me, how's Chris? I remember him and Edward really well, they were so cute. Are they still together?"

"They certainly are." Linus beamed. "They've been together ten years, you know. In fact, they're having a commitment ceremony in a couple of weeks time. I am so looking forward to it."

"Awesome." Tommy swallowed the last mouthful of pizza. "I have to go now, sorry. Thanks for the pizza. Do say hi to Uncle Ziggy from me."

"Will do." Linus felt rather dazed. Tommy scooped the hood up into his fist, and left with a friendly wave.

* * *

"So there is at least one young man out there who you wouldn't bone," House observed. Linus stuck up a finger in his general direction.

"You never told me about that hood dancer thing!" Ziggy accused, and Linus ducked a cushion.

"Sorry, Ziggy!" Linus smiled sheepishly. "I thought you might worry about him if I told you, and really, he seemed like a most pleasant and well-balanced young man. Which he is, of course-didn't he move to Europe and do very well for himself?"

"Yeah," Ziggy admitted grudgingly.

"Chris and Edward had a commitment ceremony?" a Kitten asked. "I guess this was before civil unions-"

"It certainly was," Linus confirmed, sudden painful memories surging into his brain. He glanced toward Chris, not sure whether his friend would appreciate any more discussion on this topic. But Chris was looking at Brian, and Brian was sitting forward with a hand under his chin, looking just as inquisitive as the Kitten.

* * *

END OF PART 11. TBC

Next and last part: Linus remembers his life at the time of Chris and Edward's commitment ceremony.


	15. Chapter 15: The Best Man

**Title**: The Best Man: Linus and Chris, part 12  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Chris/Edward, other OCs  
**Beta**: srsly_yes with me to the end  
**A/N**: Chris proposed to Edward in Chris & Edward - Decadence

**Summary**: Linus recalls the time Chris and Edward had their commitment ceremony, but with some reluctance.  
**Excerpt**: _"Linus." Chris stuck his hands in his pockets. "I asked Edward if he'd marry me, and he said yes."_

**The Best Man: Linus and Chris, part 12**

"I think I've been talking way too long." Linus stood up, stretching out his arms and striking an Elvis pose. "Thank-you very much, you've been a wonderful audience."

"Hold on, we want to hear about Chris and Edward's commitment cerem-_oof! _Hey!" a Kitten protested as someone elbowed him in the ribs.

Linus didn't reply, but turned and headed out of his living room, through two further rooms and the kitchen to the back door. He went outside, and stood breathing the night air for a moment before Chris slipped out to join him.

"I'm cool with it, you know," Chris said, a trifle awkward. "I mean, I don't want to tell them all about it, but I don't mind if you do. It was a long time ago."

"It was the happiest day of your life, Chris." Linus began to formulate an excuse. "I wouldn't want to upset darling Brian, it must be hard for him hearing all these tales-"

"I'm cool with it too." Brian's voice sounded rather sheepish behind them. Linus stepped aside and Brian joined them, hands in his pockets. "Hey, this might be the only opportunity in the whole world I get to hear about it, ever."

Robbed of his excuse, Linus felt long-buried emotions start to bubble up inside him. "I don't think I can," he blurted out.

"Why not?" another voice came from behind, and Chris shook his head in annoyance. It was House. He continued, "It must be a heart-warming story. Long-term lovers denied legal recognition by the inanities of the age, devising their own commitment ceremony to make a public declaration of their feelings. Or was it not such a fairy tale after all?"

"Watch it, House." Chris put a touch of menace into his voice.

"It was a fairy tale for Chris and Edward," Linus hastened to clarify. "But there were some difficult things going on in my life at the same time. Look, I _will _talk about it... but not to everyone."

"I think we've got all the crucial people here in the kitchen," chimed in another voice, Wilson this time.

Linus stepped back inside, and indeed his inner circle had followed him this far; along with House and Wilson there was Raul, Ravi and Ziggy gathered around the table. A Kitten was peering through the door, but House stepped forward and nimbly tapped it shut with his cane.

Chris shut the back door behind himself and Brian, and took the prime seat nearby. Linus sighed a little, and prepared to spill.

* * *

Linus was sitting at home one afternoon doing nothing in particular when Chris turned up on his doorstep in biking leathers. Linus welcomed him in, but Chris paused in the hallway, apparently reluctant to move any further.

"Linus." Chris stuck his hands in his pockets. "I asked Edward if he'd marry me, and he said yes."

Linus blinked. "Much as I hate to put a damper on things, I feel that _one_, the existence of Edward's wife, and _two_, the lack of legality for same-sex unions in the state of New Jersey, both make this kind of impossible."

Chris waved a hand, swatting away the objections. "We don't give a crap if it's got no legal status. Or rather, we do, but as there's nothing we can do about it, we're going to do it anyway. We're going to have a big party and make vows and exchange rings. And I need your help. You must know someone who carries out commitment ceremonies?"

"A officiant." Linus nodded slowly; he'd been to quite a few such ceremonies over the years, secular and religious, free-form out on the beach and serious as if in a register office. "Yes, I know a couple of guys..."

"Great. Also," Chris took a deep breath and looked Linus dead in the eye. "I kind of hoped you'd be my best man."

"Chris!" Linus put a hand to his mouth. He stared into Chris's somber gray eyes, and felt an overwhelming rush of joy and exhilaration; he'd never been asked such a thing before. Never imagined that he would be. Never imagined he could be.

Chris colored slightly and broke the gaze. "I know it's kind of stupid-"

"Not at all! Chris, I would be delighted, really, truly delighted!" Linus was gushing now. "And, I should have said before, congratulations! It's been what, ten years? You and Edward are just made for each other, I am _so _glad you want to do this!"

It transpired that Edward was waiting outside, sitting on Chris's motorcycle. Linus rushed out to shower more congratulations on the happy couple.

* * *

It was funny that only a couple of months earlier, Linus had been asked to do something else that he'd never dreamed would happen.

He'd been invited to dinner by his long-standing friend Elf. She was emigrating to Australia, which was a matter of sorrow but not great surprise; her partner Donna was Australian and had been hankering to go home for a while.

"I'll miss you, Elf, dear," Linus sighed over ice-cream. "And I do hope your firm doesn't decide to chuck me out of my office space." Elf had sold her business, but negotiated the right for him to stay in his corner.

"Tell me if they do and I'll spam their inboxes with penis enlargement offers."

"I will. I do appreciate it, Elf, darling; if I can do anything for you, just let me know."

Elf put down her spoon. "Actually, there was a favor I wanted to ask."

"Anything."

"You might not say that when I tell you what it is." Elf drummed sparkly green fingernails on the tablecloth.

"Shock me." And, Linus reflected wryly later, she did.

"Linus, you know that biological clock I could never hear ticking? It started to tick."

Linus frowned as he tried to understand. "You mean..."

"I mean I think I'm feeling that maternal urge I always denied."

"Oh! Oh." Linus started to get an inkling of where this was going, and felt his heart start to thump faster than before. "You want...a baby?"

"I've talked Donna into thinking this is a good idea. She reckons we should go down the sperm donor route, but I said I'd prefer to ask someone I actually know and like..." Elf's voice trailed away. "You're the best man I know."

"You're asking _me!_" Linus pushed his chair back from the table.

"I thought this might freak you out." Elf put her head in her hands. "Just forget I ever asked, alright? Let's just finish dinner and pretend it never happened."

"I'm not freaked out, Elf darling, just...surprised! And terribly flattered," Linus hastened to add. "It's not something I ever expected anyone to ask."

She looked him dead in the eye. "Well, I'm asking you. You can just walk away afterward. You don't need to commit to a thing other than jerking off into a cup. You don't need to have any involvement."

"Elf..." Linus hesitated as he tried to formulate thoughts. "If I were to do it, I wouldn't do it like that. I...never had a father myself, as you know. I wouldn't want to put anyone else in that position."

"Then be involved. You can be Uncle Linus. That would be great. But," Elf immediately warned, "Donna and I will be the parents, Mom One and Mom Two, we don't want any money from you, and don't forget we're moving to Australia in two weeks' time. You won't see much of us after that."

Now that was a thought. The possibility of having a son or daughter on the other side of the world; Linus envisaged long-distance calls, emailed news and photos. Rare, valued visits. Paying some support, heavily disguised as gifts. Having some of the fun of being a father, without the difficult bits. He thought of Ziggy with his multiple nieces and nephews.

"I'll do it," said Linus.

* * *

And he did. They went straight from the restaurant back to Elf and Donna's house, had a brief excited conversation with Donna, then Linus went to the bathroom armed only with a cup.

"I'm afraid we don't have the right kind of magazines for you," Elf joked.

"I don't need magazines," Linus declared, but once alone in the bathroom he found himself thinking, actually, it _would_ have been kinda useful... instead of jerking off to his own thoughts, when those thoughts were whirling so fast he could hardly fathom what they were...

He forced himself to focus, sought pornographic mental images, and Ravi's latest movie floated into his mind. It had a military theme; Ravi irresistible in army fatigues, sitting in a bunk in a dorm; a gruff sergeant and his pals coming along to break in the new recruits; blowjobs extracted with barking orders; the sergeant taking a fancy to Ravi and commanding him to report to his own quarters that evening-Ravi, wearing only his army cap and boots, taken roughly over a desk-Linus came with a huge shudder.

The cup was whisked rapidly away from him when he emerged from the bathroom. He escaped heartfelt thanks from both women, beating a hasty retreat from the house. He didn't really want to know what happened next. Elf called him a couple of hours later.

"I just wanted to say thanks. And, please could you not tell anyone, not yet, anyway. We won't know if it's been successful until we're in Australia... and even if it is successful, it's all very uncertain... so please could you keep it to yourself."

"Of course." Linus didn't hesitate; this was Elf and Donna's secret, not his.

* * *

And so when Chris stuck his hands in his pocket and popped the Best Man question a few months later, Linus took it as a second, wonderful, surprising life affirmation from his friends. By now he knew it had worked, Elf was in Australia and pregnant, but still adamant he couldn't tell anyone. No, not even Chris. Not until she was through the first trimester, anyway.

Chris and Edward set a date for their commitment ceremony, a month away, apparently feeling that was more than enough time to organize everything. Linus suggested an officiant, and after discussion, they picked a beach location in the southernmost Jersey shore. It was a lovely venue with a smart restaurant nearby for a reception, and an ancient lighthouse overlooking golden dunes and sparkling ocean for photo opportunities.

"So what does a best man do at a commitment ceremony?" Linus wondered one evening, sitting with Chris in the private bar at the club.

"Whatever you want." Chris shrugged, and grinned. "But you've gotta make a speech of some sort at the reception. Also, I hope you factor in a bachelor party."

"You are playing to my strengths," Linus laughed, inwardly hesitated, and took the opportunity to ask something that had been niggling at him. "Your vows, Chris...I was wondering what you and Edward might come up with. In terms of forsaking all others, in particular."

Chris understood immediately, and reached out to give Linus a friendly dig in the ribs. "You're scared you might never get into Edward's pants ever again."

"No," Linus lied with blatantly false indignation.

"Don't worry. We neither of us want to make vows we can't keep." Chris twitched a cigarette out of a packet, and offered Linus one. Linus accepted, beaming with relieved pleasure.

* * *

Among his best man duties was being entrusted with the rings. These were... awesome, in different ways. The ring Chris had gotten Edward was large, gold and heavy, exactly the kind of fundamental classic statement of commitment that Linus would have expected his good friend to make.

The ring Edward had gotten Chris was large and chunky, but dark gray in color, with a small rectangular strip in which floated a tiny diamond. Linus practically gibbered with admiration when he first saw it. "Edward that is just truly delightful! What on earth is it made of?"

"Titanium." Edward looked sheepish. "You like it? I was a bit worried, thought it might be a bit fancy for Chris."

"Edward, it speaks of you, of your creativity and culture and originality, and as such is perfect for Chris," Linus declared.

Two witnesses were required for the ceremony, and Linus was first in line. The second witness was to be Edward's sister, Eleanor, who had initially balked but given some time, came around to the idea and became positively enthusiastic at the sheer novelty. Edward had also invited his parents as guests, but it was very up in the air as to whether they would come.

* * *

As the day approached, Linus was happy and excited for his friends, but privately also rather forlorn. He wondered if he would ever meet someone he would want to have a commitment ceremony with, his _One_. It seemed as remote a possibility as it ever had been. He comforted himself by exchanging progress emails with Elf.

The night before the ceremony was the bachelor party, for both grooms-to-be, at a gay-friendly club in New Jersey that wasn't, for once, owned by Chris. Linus hired strippers, one tall and blond, the other dark and cute, with strict instructions as to which of the happy couple they were to lap dance for; both went down extremely well.

"You know, it's traditional for a couple not to spend the night before their wedding together," Linus rather obviously tried to put the moves on Edward after his fifth whisky chaser. Despite Chris's reassurance about the vows, Linus felt he was unlikely to be spending very much private quality time with Edward after the ceremony, and thought it worth angling for time before.

"You." Edward swatted at Linus with a grin. "Well, Bob seems to want to feed Chris vodka all night and end up tying him to a lamppost, so perhaps I should bow out of that."

"Oh, you don't want to be involved in all that tarring and feathering stuff, Edward darling, I think you should come home with me," Linus said earnestly.

"Maybe." Edward looked toward Chris, who was involved with some kind of drinking game with Bob and several other staff from the club.

Linus lumbered across, put a hand on Chris's shoulder, and spoke softly in his ear.

"In more conventional weddings, I believe it is customary for the best man to try and sleep with the bridesmaid," Linus murmured. "But before this much more colorful ceremony, I wonder if I might be permitted to pursue your fellow groom."

"You are in-in-in_corrigible_, Linus, you really are!" Chris slurred his words only slightly as he slapped Linus on the shoulder, then waved at Edward. "Go for it. I'll see you both tomorrow."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Linus was in bed deep in slumber after some really very satisfactory sex, Edward curled up next to him. When the phone roused him, Linus did not want to talk to anyone at all, and decided sleepily to ignore it.

But then came the voice leaving a message. "Linus, are you there? It's Donna."

It could not have been a worse name to hear. Not Elf-Linus jolted awake in a microsecond, and reached out to grab the handset. "Donna?" he mumbled. "Is Elf-"

"Linus, she lost the baby." Donna began the sentence composed and ended in a sob.

"What...what happened? Is she..." Linus could get barely get out a croak.

"Elf is all right, Linus, but she's just...destroyed by this." Donna was crying openly now. "It's just... awful. It all seemed fine then...it just happened. She...asked me to call and tell you. It... he was a boy."

"Could I speak to her?" Linus whispered.

"She's too upset to talk right now," Donna whispered back. "I have to go."

They hung up on mutual stunned goodbyes.

Edward clung to Linus's shoulders and spoke softly. "Linus, are you okay? What just happened?"

Linus could have said _Elf had a miscarriage_ or _Elf lost a baby_ but the words that came out were, "My son just died."

He felt Edward's fingers freeze, puzzlement and lack of comprehension vibrating through skin. Then suddenly Linus's body convulsed in a huge wailing sob, and Edward flung his arms around him and held on tight.

* * *

The following day Linus told himself repeatedly, _I jerked off into a cup_.

_I jerked off into a cup_

_I jerked off into a cup_

It made no difference. The sense of loss and grief did not lessen, for all that Linus told himself it was irrational. He had never met this unborn child, had never even seen a scan or a bump, yet somehow an emotional investment had been made without him even realizing.

He told Edward about it. He could hardly do otherwise; Edward had heard most of the phone conversation. But he made Edward swear not to tell Chris.

"He'd want to know," Edward objected, sitting at Linus's kitchen table the following morning.

"He must not know." Linus was adamant. He slapped his hands on table for emphasis. "Elf did not want anyone to know. And if he knows, he might try and do something stupid like call today off. He mustn't know."

"He'd _really_ want-" Edward began.

"Edward if you love me at all, please, don't tell Chris!" Linus knew this was verging on the ridiculous, but suddenly nothing on earth seemed as important. "Elf and Donna's lives are already ruined by this, I will _not_ ruin Chris's big day into the bargain!"

Edward tried again. "Linus, he'll find out at some point and he'll be really mad you didn't tell him-"

"Elf and Donna are in Australia, he need never know." Linus's own mind was clear. "Not for a very long time, anyway. Edward, my darling Edward, I cannot have Chris's mind full of pity for me when it should be full of love for you."

He didn't say it aloud, but also bubbling high in his awareness was that if he encountered any sympathy from Chris, he might just break down altogether. He could see Edward looking closely at him, and knew he understood this, and would keep the secret.

* * *

He dropped Edward home, then drove himself to the ceremony venue, finding a little consolation knowing that he would not be alone today, at least. Ravi had squeezed twenty-four hours out of a busy filming schedule, and was flying in that morning and back the following morning. He was waiting at the beach when Linus arrived, sprawled in a chair with a large elaborate cocktail on the table in front of him, effortlessly attractive in sunglasses and a dark blue shirt and tie.

"Ravi my dear, divine as ever," Linus burbled slightly as he greeted his friend with a kiss.

"Linus, sweetheart, you're looking good." Ravi embraced him, and although Linus tried to react normally, he couldn't help a tiny emotional shudder. He remembered how he'd thought of Ravi when he'd been jerking off into that cup.

"What a day, eh?" Linus swallowed hard. "Chris and Edward, how marvelous..."

"I am sure we will all be in tears of joy by the end of the day," Ravi assured him, and Linus was grateful for the assumption.

Chris and Edward arrived later that morning, smiling and looking great. Chris's fair hair shone brightly in the sunlight, Edward's dark hair fell down over his forehead as usual. Both wore dark suits and white and gold vests with vibrant ties; Chris's purple, Edward's a deep red.

As far as Linus was concerned, the day was spent trying not to break down, and not to give away to anyone how terribly upset he was. Although Edward knew his secret, Edward had a whole heap of other demands on his attention, not in the least because his parents had showed up after all. Linus saw the moment early on when Edward gasped, "Mom! Dad!" and hurried to greet them. Chris raised an eyebrow at Linus in a way that somehow managed to be pleased, humorous and apprehensive at the same time, and followed a step behind.

Through the vows, the exchange of rings, the signing of a register, Linus felt himself trembling on the edge of hysteria again and again and again. He barely took in the vows, although he was standing right next to Chris as his best friend cleared his throat and coughed, before uttering gruffly, "I promise to give you the best of myself and to ask of you no more than you can give..."

Linus felt he was listening from the end of a long dark tunnel. _I jerked off into a cup I jerked off into a cup_

Chris's voice was dim and distant. "I fell in love with you for the qualities, abilities, and outlook on life that you have..."

_I jerked off into a cup I jerked off into a cup_

Edward's voice taking its turn, calm and sweet, "I promise to keep myself open to you, to let you see through the window of my world into my innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams..."

_I jerked off into a cup I jerked off into a cup_

"And finally, I promise to love you in good times and in bad, with all I have to give and all I feel inside, completely and forever," Edward concluded.

Somehow Linus held himself together, and he didn't drop the rings.

But his big moment, when all eyes were on him, was during his speech at the reception. He blotted everything else from his mind as he stood up to give his carefully prepared speech.

"I think most of you know my name is Linus, I have been friends with Chris a long time, and I am most privileged to be asked to speak to you all today. I'd like to begin with a quote by John Houseman, talking about his partnership with the young Orson Wells." Linus put his small reading spectacles high up his nose and brought the paper closer toward him. "He said Wells was _a 20-year-old boy in whose talent I had unquestioning faith but with whom I must increasingly play the combined and tricky roles of producer, censor, adviser, impresario, father, older brother and bosom friend_."

The audience murmured a little, and Linus took off the spectacles. "Now I would not dare to claim all such roles myself, but when I first met Chris, I was twenty-five while he was at college and not yet twenty-one. Although his ID said otherwise." Chortles at this.

"But I was perhaps his producer, censor, adviser. In those early years he was just starting out on his career owning and operating bars and restaurants; he had sound business sense, but no experience and little money. I invested in his first enterprise, collaborated with him on his next, and the rest, as we all know, is history." Linus crooked an eyebrow. "We had plenty of fun along with the serious business, of course."

He saw Ravi twitch a hand, as if to say _careful!_ Linus grinned back to show he wasn't going into gory detail. "I confess in those days I would have laughed at the idea Chris would ever be making a commitment like this, and I venture to suggest he would have done too. But then he met Edward, and everything changed."

"For the better," Chris murmured beside him.

"For the better, absolutely," Linus agreed. "How could having someone like Edward in your life not improve it? Smart and funny and creative and adorable. He built Chris the most beautiful house, and ended up living in it himself too."

Linus paused to sip water. He could see Edward, holding hands with Chris under the table, blushing a little and his spectacles slipping down his nose. "It sounds so clichéd to say it was _love at first sight,_ and yet I can think of no better way of describing it. One only has to watch them together for a short time to see they are soulmates; they complete each other."

"Aw shucks." Edward was still blushing, and Linus spotted him and Chris exchange beatific, adoring smiles.

"I know we have all had the most wonderful day," Linus concluded. "And I am sure you will all agree with me that it is crazy, just _crazy_, that two people can love each other so much and hold a ceremony like we've just had today, yet none of it has any legal standing at all."

Nods, and cries of, "Hear, hear."

"But," Linus upturned his palms. "This is the world we live in. We are all witnesses here today to Chris and Edward, and their commitment to each other." He raised his champagne glass. "To Chris, and Edward!" And the toast was echoed around the tent.

"Awesome speech, Linus, just awesome," Chris muttered afterwards, giving his friend an awkward hug. Linus returned it, also a trifle awkwardly; they rarely touched.

There was nothing awkward about the heartfelt embrace and whispered thanks he got from Edward, as he and Chris prepared to depart on their honeymoon, a two week vacation in Aruba. "Linus, thank you so much for everything, you've done so much for us, especially after the news you had this morning-"

"Not at all, Edward, not at all. Now go, go, quick," Linus commanded. So Chris and Edward left in an airport bound cab, and as they vanished into the distance Linus felt absurdly grateful that he had gotten through the day.

He took Ravi home with him, and rather to Ravi's surprise, insisted on them watching _Breaking In the Rookie Soldiers_ that evening.

* * *

"But Elf and Donna did have children, twins, didn't they?" Raul asked, brow furrowed. "We visited them when we were in Australia."

"We did indeed," Linus confirmed. "My darling Elf had better luck a year later, and she and Donna are kind enough to allow me a godfather role. Their biological father, though, is an Australian chap, an old friend of Donna's."

"Linus." Chris was on his feet. "A word."

Chris stalked out of the back door. Linus stood up and followed, not meeting any of the wide eyes gazing at him from around the kitchen table.

Outside, some way from the house, Chris was pacing. His face was reddened and scowling. He rounded on Linus with, "You fucking _idiot! _Why have you never told me all this?"

Linus stood his ground. "There was never an appropriate time."

Chris eyeballed him from an inch away. "The fuck there wasn't! This happened more than ten years ago! You couldn't find a minute or two to tell me-"

_"There was never an appropriate time," _Linus repeated staunchly. "You came back from the honeymoon all happy and lovey-dovey. And three months later Edward was dead."

Chris opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"You were destroyed, I was heartbroken for the both of you, and worried sick that you were going to kill yourself," Linus hammered on. "A miscarriage on the other side of the world, of a child I jerked off into a cup to conceive, suddenly seemed like the stupidest fucking thing to ever have mattered."

"It mattered," Chris muttered. "Have you never shared this with anyone?"

"No." Linus thought for a second. "Okay, one person, my therapist. Cost me a hundred bucks an hour to discover the obvious, that my own lack of a father led me to project way too many hopes onto the prospect of fatherhood myself."

Chris, who had no time for therapists, threw up his hands in disgust.

"The other thing that changed," Linus continued, speaking more slowly now, "was that I met my darling Raul. I found my One. It took me a while to realize it, but I did. And I fought it, Chris, I told myself he wasn't, because... because I couldn't stand the idea that you had lost your One and I had found mine, as if the universe would only smile on one of us at a time-"

_"Stop." _Chris screwed up his face and put his hands over his ears, but was all too obviously still listening.

"I loved Edward too, Chris, you know that." Linus was spilling his guts now and couldn't stop. "But I also had a selfish envy of the relationship you had together, and suddenly I had what you didn't have anymore-"

"Stop!" This time Chris reached out and gave Linus a sharp push in the chest. The physical contact startled Linus into silence.

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Suddenly Chris looked very tired; the anger faded from his gray eyes, his posture slumped. It had been a long, emotional evening, Linus supposed.

Then Chris took a deep breath, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "We should stop talking about the past and think about the future. This is my retirement party, right? Life begins again at retirement, you told me."

"Indeed." Linus nodded, glad to have the subject changed. "You must join Ziggy and me for golf on Monday."

Chris patted Linus on the back. "I'll do that."

Linus patted Chris back, and to his surprise and gratification, Chris slung an arm around his shoulders. They started to walk back toward the house together.

Linus could see Raul and Brian in the doorway, waiting for them.

* * *

END

**A/N: **not quite the end; there will be an Epilogue. Linus reflects on meeting his One.


	16. Chapter 16: Epilogue  Two To Tango

**Title**: Two To Tango: Linus and Chris, Epilogue  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Linus friendship, Linus/Raul  
**Beta**: srsly_yes seeing this through to the end  
**A/N**: Linus meeting Raul for the first time is told in Gone Fishing; Chris meeting Raul for the first time is in Boyeurism.

**Summary**: Linus remembers his early years with Raul.  
**Excerpt**: _"Linus, I'm telling you this as a friend," the cop warned. "Let me remind you that jailbait is not just a description on a porn video to persuade you to buy it."_

**Two To Tango: Linus and Chris, Epilogue**

"You know," Chris remarked, as he and Linus walked back toward the house, "I'm surprised you and Raul never had a commitment ceremony. Or a civil union, even, these days."

"Not our scene," Linus said briskly. "Raul would hate to be the center of such attention."

He was going to go on, but stopped, not wanting to get sucked into another bout of reminiscing. The thing was, there had been _one_ time where he'd have married Raul in a heartbeat, if the law had allowed; during all that pesky citizenship stuff. But the law didn't allow, so it was all moot, really, and not worth talking about.

* * *

In their early years together, nobody thought Linus and Raul's relationship would last.

They made a distinctly odd couple, of course. The wealthy, extrovert, slightly overweight, (late) middle-aged laid-back American businessman with a penchant for Hawaiian shirts, good wine and a weekly game of golf. And the shy, slender but muscular, (very) young tempestuous Latino manual laborer who had arrived on a leaking boat with nothing but the clothes on his back.

"I hope you know what the fuck you're playing at." Chris was openly disapproving to Linus, although polite and friendly to Raul. "I know you've taken in some stray cats in your time, but he's too young and you're too old for the shit this might bring down on you."

"But Chris, he's special," Linus insisted. "We're really very well suited."

"Yeah, I'm sure he's bendy and firm in all the right places."

"Not just that." (Although they were remarkably sexually compatible, Linus couldn't help but think). "We talk, Chris, properly, really. About life, the universe, and everything." He didn't dare say, but mentally added; _like you and Edward used to_.

"You can't have anything in common to talk about."

"We have loads in common!" Linus protested. "And we're developing shared interests. I am educating him in classic Hollywood movies and teaching him golf. He's improving my Spanish, showing me how to cook _ajiaco cubano_, and after all these years I've been putting it off, he's going to teach me how to scuba dive." He went for whimsical. "Maybe he'll show me how to salsa. Or teach me to tango."

That made Chris grin. "Now that I have to see."

Ziggy was likewise respectful to Raul in person, but ripped into Linus in private.

"Linus, I'm telling you this as a friend," the cop warned. "Let me remind you that _jailbait_ is not just a description on a porn video to persuade you to buy it. It means if you take the bait, you go to jail! And if he's really underage, then God help you because I won't be able to."

"He is not underage, he's eighteen," Linus insisted stoutly. And although he hadn't believed this himself when Raul had first told him, he came to believe it through sheer repetition and a deep abiding desire that it be true.

* * *

Raul had a deep and abiding mistrust of government and authority figures, and initially it seemed that he would be happy simply to hole up in Linus's house forever. Linus however knew this Would Not Do for very long.

"I want you to be here legally, Raul, so you can live and work without looking over your shoulder all the time. Also, I have to travel on business, you know that, and I do treasure my vacations abroad-I want to be able to take you with me."

"I would love to go away on vacation with you," Raul admitted, and that seemed to be the deciding factor in agreeing to go with Linus to see an immigration lawyer.

Linus related this step forward to Chris over a late night poker game one night in Chris's office. "Of course these processes can take a long time, but at least we can get started."

"I hope for your sake that he's not with you just to get a green card," Chris remarked, whisky having loosened his tongue.

Linus felt the side of his face twitch involuntarily. "Fuck you."

Chris shook his head. "You're worried about the same thing."

"No, I'm not," Linus lied valiantly. "He has great inner strength, my Raul. He can look after himself-you know that. If he hadn't met me, he would have found some other means of obtaining citizenship."

"Uh huh." Chris flicked through the deck.

"If he gets a green card and leaves me, you can say _I told you so_," Linus declared.

"I won't need to," Chris said simply, and Linus changed the subject.

Of course, Chris knew him too well. Linus did fear it, because they always left in the end. Sometimes, he lay in bed at night, silently repeating names to himself, struggling to remember all the faces and why they had left him. _Enzo... Paulo... Dimitri... Philippe... Ryan... Nico.._. a veritable smorgasboard of young men, and they all left in the end. Usually with warm thanks and a loving goodbye, but they all went back to their countries, or on to explore pastures new. Only Ravi had never left him, and Ravi (Linus mused with new despair) had never been his in the first place.

So-it was inevitable. Raul would leave him too. It was only a matter of time, and perhaps immediately after filing a permanent residency application.

* * *

Linus had hopes that despite Raul's unconventional means of entry to the country and lack of paperwork, political asylum and permanent residency would not be impossible.

And lo and behold, it was possible. It helped enormously that Raul had already reached the US, and wasn't making any claims for financial benefits. His method of arrival did make things difficult, but not impossible. Linus was well-connected and had the money to ease things along. He called in favors, pulled some strings, sought recommendations, and employed the best immigration attorney he could find; a man based in New York, by the name of Boyce.

They went to visit Boyce in his office, and had a long interview in which Raul bore up very well, despite having to relate a detailed family history and childhood that made Linus want to hold Raul close and never let him go.

"Wouldn't it be much easier if I could just marry him already," Linus remarked to Boyce at one point, and Boyce laughed kindly, and Raul nodded politely, and they all moved on in a _well that's never gonna be possible_ kind of way.

They walked out of the room at the end of the day with Raul smiling, which Linus would hardly have dared hope for beforehand. He suddenly remembered he had forgotten to pass on the regards of the mutual acquaintance who had recommended Boyce.

"You go on, there was something I forgot to mention." Linus waved Raul on to the secretary's office, and headed back inside Boyce's room.

He found Boyce standing with a cellphone to his ear, wedged between his neck and shoulder, as he packed up his desk. Linus opened his mouth to speak, but Boyce was talking. "Hi honey, I'm on my way home. Just been meeting a new client-Cuban lad, nice boy."

Not wanting to eavesdrop, Linus turned to leave, but Boyce's next words made him pause. "Very young, only eighteen. He's found himself a sugar daddy, who's willing to cough up the money to pay for my fees so he can take home a living breathing sex toy."

_Fucking charming. _Linus listened as Boyce went on, "He's twenty years older if he's a day. Maybe more." Pause. "Yeah, I know, it's sick, it's disgusting." Boyce started to turn toward the door. "But what can you say when they're willing to pay-"

He stopped talking abruptly as Linus eyeballed him from a couple of feet away.

"I'll call you back," Boyce said, the blood draining from his face, and snapped the phone shut.

Linus knew that in similar circumstances, Chris would have hit Boyce square in the face, departed, and never come back. But Linus was both more cerebral and pragmatic.

"Mr. Boyce," Linus said, keeping his voice steady. "I am here because you are supposed to be the best immigration lawyer on the Eastern seaboard. I trust you will work hard to fulfil that reputation, and I look forward to watching your best efforts exerted to achieve permanent residency for Raul in the smallest possible time."

Boyce opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.

"Should you _not_ live up to that reputation," Linus rolled on, "I will be forced to conclude that you have not exerted your best efforts on account of personal prejudice. I will then have to share my knowledge of this phone conversation with some friends of mine you might know, who will not be favorably impressed, I can assure you. Good day, Mr. Boyce."

He walked out of the room, and managed a smile for the secretary before sweeping Raul out of the office.

* * *

The overheard phone conversation left Linus feeling most profoundly gloomy. He had confidence that Raul's case would not be adversely affected, but was depressed to realize that he had had no idea what Boyce had actually thought about himself and Raul from the other side of the desk.

Did everyone think that? Did everybody privately find their age difference _disgusting?_ He remembered the reactions of Chris and Ziggy. If they, his best friends, had felt strongly enough to raise objections then goodness knows what his more casual acquaintances thought. Linus imagined headshakes and mutterings behind his back; _have you seen Linus's latest, he's really gone too far this time..._

And of course he had a history; Linus knew his own miserable failings and personality defects only too well. The taste for barely-legal young men he had from college days had never faded; the average age of his sexual partners had somehow never revised itself upward while he himself aged every year. And with each added year the gap grew bigger, became more and more indefensible, more _disgusting_...

It wasn't fair, it wasn't; Linus wanted to shout to the rooftops, to detractors and disbelievers. Raul was different; not just another stray cat crossing his path.

But there was nothing he could do. Nothing except fight to keep Raul right here with him, and hope to prove that their relationship would stand the test of time.

* * *

He suggested brightly to Raul that perhaps Raul could make some friends his own age. "Maybe someone from our dance classes. There are a number of nice young men-"

Raul was resistant. "I've always got on better with older men. Always."

"Grateful as I am for this preference," Linus said carefully, "I feel you should know people closer in age to you than me. I don't want people thinking I'm hogging you all to myself-"

"I don't care what people think," Raul said with dignity, and that was that.

The dance classes had become a most pleasurable, shared activity for them. Contrary to Linus's stereotypical expectations, Raul had never learned to salsa or tango, although he did have an excellent sense of rhythm. Linus had taken some elementary ballroom dancing lessons back in his college days, dragging Elf along (although she had come to enjoy it more than he had). He had stopped after learning waltz, foxtrot and cha-cha, and regretted not taking it further.

"Watching tango in Argentina made me wish I'd learned to tango," Linus explained to Raul. "It's quite a big thing over there, you know; men dancing with men, women with women-"

"Then we will learn to tango together," Raul declared. They found a same-sex dance class in New York, and off they went.

Chris found the idea of them learning to dance hilarious, and regularly demanded proof of progress, which Linus resisted strenuously. "Wait until we're actually good at it, Chris; it takes time..."

Time passed. Boyce did his job, and Linus had no cause for complaint; Raul achieved political asylum and started the patient statutory wait to qualify for permanent residency. They went on vacation together, a trip to the west coast to see Ravi. A course of radiation therapy for prostate cancer put a stop to Linus's dancing lessons for a while. They went on vacation again, this time venturing further afield to Hawaii.

Linus was sunning himself at an afternoon pool party at Dean and Gavin's house one day, held to welcome the latest addition to their family (a happy Labradoodle named Laura), when Chris arrived and plumped himself down on the next lounge chair.

"No Raul today?" he asked.

"My darling Raul was doing errands this morning and ran late, he'll be here soon," Linus explained, and peered closely at his friend. He was pleased to see Chris had come; his friend had been very down recently. The fifth anniversary of Edward's death was approaching, and Linus always feared the worst at this time of year. "Glad you could make it."

"How could I resist the chance to meet another of Dean and Gavin's woolly mammals-_oof!" _Chris gasped as a large yellow dog landed square on his chest.

Linus laughed merrily, then hearing a beep from his cell, he glanced at it to see a text message. _On my way_. _I checked the mailbox BTW. I got my green card._

He sat bolt upright, rendered breathless for a moment by the news. Chris, busy untangling himself from 50 pounds of Labradoodle, didn't notice.

Linus got up and made his way out around the side of the house, arriving in the front yard just as Raul pulled up outside. Raul got out of the car, an envelope clutched to his chest as if someone was trying to take it away from him.

"It's my green card," Raul said redundantly, as Linus approached.

"At last!" Linus was so delighted he didn't even know what to say. "My dear boy, we should celebrate! Uh..."

And at that moment the stereo out in the back garden began to spill out a tango tune.

"Let's dance," Raul said, tucking the envelope in an inside pocket, and reached out a hand.

They headed back to the party. Their friends looked up in surprise, then amused delight, as Linus and Raul took a few initially halting, then more confident steps toward them all. Raul led, as they sashayed merrily across the poolside in close embrace, moving with sensual, synchronised flair.

"Bravo!" Chris was the first to burst into applause, and everyone else followed. Linus stood beaming, and holding Raul close, momentarily as happy as he could ever remember being.

But then the terrifying realization dawned on him, the implication of the green card; _Raul would leave him_.

* * *

If Linus had ever wanted proof that Raul was special, the inner torment he suffered that evening and overnight was it. The prospect of Raul leaving, walking away from his home and never returning, made his chest constrict until he could hardly breathe, his throat crack and swell, and his head pound. It was just awful, too ghastly to contemplate; it would rip his heart out and his shred his soul; it would leave the most horrendous gaping chasm in his life that he could barely comprehend...

He woke the next morning, and was not at all surprised to find the bed empty next to him. _C'est la vie. _He got up and headed downstairs, deliberately not looking in Raul's room next door, putting off the dreadful confirmation that a room stripped of personal belongings would provide.

The house felt echoingly empty, as Linus strolled through living room, dining room, the old billiard room where they had taken away the table to make space to practice dancing. Linus paused for a melancholy moment to wonder if he would ever tango again.

Yet-what was this? Sounds from the kitchen-the radio on-movement, life. Linus hurried to the door, and there was Raul, sitting with a coffee cup and a big pile of brochures on the table in front of him.

"Linus, good morning," Raul beamed, and held up a vacation brochure. "I was wondering where we would go on vacation next, now that I have my green card? You were talking about north Africa?"

"Why-yes. That sounds wonderful." Linus came into the room, edging toward the coffee machine.

"I thought Morocco, or Egypt, perhaps," Raul continued, flicking through pages. "And we should invite Chris, take his mind off things. Look at these pictures, there is some fantastic scenery..."

Linus came to stand behind Raul, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. And as Raul carried on chatting happily, planning their vacation, Linus dared hope that Raul would not leave him after all.

END

* * *

Thank-you very much for reading!


	17. Chapter 17: A Prince Among Men

**Title**: A Prince Among Men  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Linus/Raul, Ravi, Chris  
**Beta**: forever indebted to srsly_yes

**A/N**: This fic nestles among the Raul fics in the Chris 'verse. I hope nobody minds too much if I add this (and more upcoming) short fics to the end of the Kittens...

**Summary**: Raul meets Ravi for the first time, and things don't go smoothly.  
**Excerpt**: _An hour later, Raul had seen Ravi as an outlaw of Sherwood Forest, a knight of the Round Table, a Roman slave, a Middle Earth elf, and a bare-chested window cleaner who got turned on by heights. Among others._

**A Prince Among Men**

"Raul, splendid news!" Linus put down the phone, beaming. "My good friend Ravi is coming to visit tomorrow! He lives in San Francisco-we must go there some time-but he's on the East Coast for a couple of days filming, and he's going to stay for a night or two."

"That sounds nice." Raul found it difficult meeting new people, but wanted very much to meet friends of Linus. "Filming? He's an actor?"

"He's a very special kind of actor, he's a porn star!" Linus fairly gushed with excitement. "I must show you his movies."

In the three months since Raul had met Linus and moved in with him, they hadn't watched any porn together. They had been so busy exploring each other that the question of external stimuli hadn't come up. Raul had no objection to watching a little something together, getting mutually turned on and seeking release along with the action on the vid, _oh yes mmm yeah_.

But that wasn't quite what happened. Linus unlocked a cupboard to reveal a whole shelf of videos which had _Ravioli_ among the acting credits, and they watched parts of each. The videos were each kept at the start of Ravi's scenes, and although there was little fast-forwarding and rewinding to be done, it did kind of break the mood when Linus kept leaping up to change the tape every five minutes.

An hour later, Raul had seen Ravi as an outlaw of Sherwood Forest, a knight of the Round Table, a Roman slave, a Middle Earth elf, and a bare-chested window cleaner who got turned on by heights. Among others.

"Isn't he just gorgeous?" Linus sighed, removing yet another tape and consigning Ravi the vulnerable hospital patient to its box.

"Yes indeed," Raul said feebly, doing his best to hide an increasing sense of inferiority. Because watching Ravi at work was, well, rather demoralising. He was beautiful, incredibly athletic, and capable of sexual feats that Raul barely believed possible.

But Ravi the man wouldn't be anything like Ravi the porn actor, would he? Raul comforted himself with that thought; all that flattering lighting, camera angles, make-up, costume. In real life he probably just looked like anyone else.

* * *

The man who walked through the front door the following evening, declaiming, "Linus, sweetheart, how wonderful to see you again!" did not look like just anyone else. He was a prince, a prince among men. Burnished skin with darkest eyes, fine cheekbones and glossy hair. The diamond in his left ear and the gold chain resting against his neck glowed with authenticity.

"Ravi, darling!" Linus embraced him. "So good to see you! And, Ravi, I must introduce you! This is Raul."

Raul stepped forward and managed a muttered _pleasedtomeetyou_. They exchanged a warm handshake. Ravi's hands were soft and his nails perfectly manicured; Raul felt scruffy and small.

"Let me take your coat," Linus offered, and as Ravi shrugged off his long gray trench coat, Raul couldn't stifle a gasp. Ravi was wearing army fatigues underneath; a camouflage shirt and pants, and heavy boots.

"Sorry," Ravi immediately apologized. "I came straight from the set."

"What is this movie, a sequel to _Breaking in the Rookie Soldier?"_ Linus demanded.

"Kind of, except I'm not the rookie anymore," Ravi laughed.

But Raul was already scurrying up the stairs, his nerve broken. Uniforms meant power and authority, and authority still scared him half to death. He'd hardly been able to look Ziggy in the eye, and Ziggy was a plain-clothes cop, for goodness sake.

He calmed enough a few minutes later to go and sit on the stairs, and listen to Linus and Ravi chatting in the living room. Linus demanded to hear more about the soldier movie, which sounded very distasteful to Raul; rogue soldiers camped out in a remote forest, abusing unfortunate men who stumbled upon their camp.

"It's a bit edgy for me," Ravi admitted. "Shall we change the subject? Tell me about Raul, he's very lovely. How did you meet?"

"Ah, I found him in Miami and couldn't resist bringing him home. He came to the US under rather difficult circumstances," Linus explained diplomatically.

"I would be most interested to get to know him, will he be back?" Ravi asked.

"Oh, he's always shy when it comes to meeting new people. Give him time and he'll come and talk to us," Linus declared. "So how's San Francisco? Have you seen Peter recently..?"

Raul tuned out the conversation as disturbing images of Linus and Ravi fucking appeared in front of him. Linus couldn't wait to get those army fatigues off Ravi's lean, muscular body, Raul was sure; and the prospect of watching Ravi... _perform_, like in the videos, was a daunting one. Linus might even ask Raul to join in. That...could be humiliating.

Of course Linus would never make him do anything he didn't want to do. But explaining just _why_ he didn't want to do it, in front of Ravi-that was to be avoided if at all possible. Better to get out of the way now, before the problem occurred. Raul tiptoed down the stairs, slipped on a jacket and shoes, and headed outside.

He walked down to the coast, which was only a few blocks away. It was a quiet moonlit night, the air was cool and still, and it was very pleasant. At the shore, his feet turned southward toward the marina, which was some way away; Linus wouldn't dream of travelling there except in a car, but Raul had never minded long walks.

Linus and Chris owned quarter shares in a cabin cruiser moored there, and Raul (who had spent much of his early life in and around boats) had a key. He could bed down there for the night and go home in the morning, by which time hopefully Linus and Ravi would be in a post-coital daze. The other boat owners, business associates of Linus, both lived many miles away and booked time on it only once or twice a year; nobody would be using it.

Sure enough, the boat was dark and empty; Raul kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his jacket, and settled himself down in one of the narrow bunks. The gentle rocking on the water helped empty his mind, and soon lulled him to sleep.

* * *

"ARGH! What the _fuck!"_

Raul jumped awake in horror as light flooded his brain and an ear-splitting shout drilled into his head. He found the cabin light was on, and a fair haired man in jeans and a leather jacket was standing in the middle of the floor staring at him.

"Raul, you scared the shit out of me!" Chris gasped, his gray eyes wide. "I didn't realize you were here until I turned the light on-what areyou doing? Is Linus here?"

"No, no." Raul sat up, pulling blankets around himself, embarrassed and sorry to have frightened Chris. "He's at home. He has a visitor. I wanted to get out of the way."

Chris sat down on the opposite bunk, still looking a bit stunned. "A visitor?"

"Ravi. You must know him," Raul realized as he spoke. "They...haven't seen each other in a while. I...wanted to give them some privacy."

Chris raised an eyebrow. Anyone who knew Linus would have known this was a ridiculous thing to say, and Raul could see Chris didn't believe him for a second.

"I mean..." Raul stumbled over his thoughts, and found himself saying, "Linus showed me all his videos the day before."

It didn't explain anything in itself, but Chris said, "Oh," and visibly thought for a few seconds. "All Ravi's videos? That must have been quite a session."

"It was," Raul said humbly, sensing Chris understood.

"And he's come for a visit?" Chris asked.

"Just for a couple of days," Raul explained. "He's over on the East Coast to shoot a movie. An army thing...he turned up in full combat gear."

Chris grimaced. "Right."

"What about you?" Raul asked defensively. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my boat!" Chris shot back with a touch of humor. He reached down to unlace his boots. "I come out here at night sometimes."

_Really_. Raul wondered why, but didn't dare ask. However apparently Chris felt more explanation was needed, as he added, swinging his legs up onto the bunk, "Some nights I just can't sleep at home."

_Really_. Chris had a beautiful home, right on the beach, wonderful views, quiet location, with a large bed that Raul knew was very comfy from his own experience. Surely anyone would sleep well in such a house?

"Goodnight," Chris added, and hit the light switch, plunging the cabin back into darkness.

Raul lay in the dark and reflected that Chris always had a little cloud of sadness about him. He remembered that Chris's house had been designed and built by Edward, whom Raul had never met but sometimes felt he had; Linus spoke about him with such enormous depths of warmth and regret for his death, only a couple of years ago. Raul tried to imagine living in Linus's house if Linus was dead; the thought made his stomach crunch and pulse quicken with horror. No wonder Chris could sometimes not sleep, surrounded by such concrete evidence of the lost love of his life. And yet, no wonder that he was still there, because how could one possibly abandon such a house with its memories?..

After a while Raul could not bear the waves of empty loneliness he could feel vibrating from the bed opposite. He got up, padded the few steps across the cabin, and slipped into bed alongside Chris. Chris let out a small grunt of surprise, but edged over a few inches to give him room. Raul slipped an arm around Chris's chest, trying to send out comforting vibes; _you are not alone. You have friends. We care about you. _

At first Chris lay rather stiffly still, but gradually Raul felt him relax, muscles unclenching and easing into drowsiness. They drifted into sleep together.

* * *

_BRRRING!...BRRRING!..._

The blare of a cellphone made Raul jump awake for the second time that night. Not his own; he didn't have one (although Linus had been trying to persuade him to get one). Chris muttered a curse and groped for his phone, clipped to his belt.

"Hello," he mumbled into the handset, peering at his watch in the light of the screen. "Hey, Linus."

Raul guessed Chris had said that for his benefit. He was in fact lying close enough that he could recognize Linus's voice, loud and alarmed, although he could not make out the words.

"Quit worrying. He's with me," Chris said. Pause. "No. No, I'm on the boat. I was coming here to sleep and he was already here. He's fine."

There was a more lengthy pause, and Raul could hear Linus chattering worriedly.

"Don't you think showing him videos might not have been the best way to introduce him to Ravi?" Chris said, putting some acid into his voice. "And I hear he turned up on your doorstep in army gear, it's not the most welcoming-Linus-_Linus-"_

Raul shut his eyes, wishing he could hear what Linus was saying but also glad that he couldn't.

"Look, let's get some sleep now and I'll bring him back to you tomorrow," Chris said in a tone of finality. "'Night," and he snapped shut his cell.

Raul squeezed Chris's arm to show he was grateful.

"Ravi's a good guy, you know," Chris said into the darkness.

Raul was silent, listening.

"First time I met him I tried to pay him off to get rid of him, 'cause he was an escort and I thought he was just hanging around Linus to take advantage," Chris went on. "But he wouldn't take the money, and in the end I figured he must really care about Linus. They've been friends a long time now."

"That's cool," Raul whispered.

"Also, porn's a performance art, that's what Ravi always says, nothing to do with real sex with real people." Chris spoke through a yawn. "Don't judge Ravi because of what he does. He never judges anyone."

And that made Raul realize that when he'd overheard Linus and Ravi talking about him in the living room, Ravi hadn't commented on his age. Everyone he met was concerned about how young he might be. Chris, Ziggy, waiters in restaurants who treated him like he was Linus's son, the doormen at the club who crinkled their eyes and made it clear he would never have gotten in if he wasn't riding on Linus's coat tails. But not Ravi. Not a word.

Raul stayed awake a while after Chris had gone to sleep, but eventually drifted off again.

* * *

"Hello! Anyone home? Can I come aboard?..."

Raul woke for the third time to find it was morning, a cloudy sky was vibrating daylight through cabin windows, and a voice was hailing from outside.

Half asleep still, Raul slid out of Chris's bunk and moved to sit back on the other side. Chris sat up, rubbled his eyes, stumbled out of bed and hauled himself up the small flight of steps to unlock the cabin door. "Hey, Ravi. Morning."

Ravi, not Linus?...

"Chris, great to see you again." Ravi came down the steps and greeted Chris with a kiss on the cheek. "And Raul, good morning, I'm sorry we didn't have the chance to get acquainted last night."

"Um." Raul was hesitant, but here in broad daylight Ravi seemed much less scary. He was still wearing the army boots, but the gray trench coat was belted around a tight-fitting sweater and jeans. The jewelry was reduced to discreet studs in both ears.

"I thought I could take you both out for breakfast, perhaps?" Ravi went on. "Linus tells me there is an excellent diner on the quayside somewhere."

"Yeah. They do pancakes with bacon and strawberries and maple syrup. Awesome." Chris was shedding sleep as he stretched his arms. "Raul?"

"Yes, thank you, that sounds very nice." Raul felt timid, but made the effort to be polite. Pancakes with bacon and strawberries and maple syrup did indeed sound good. And he might be able to talk more easily to Ravi with Chris around, than with Linus.

"Linus not with you?" Chris asked, sitting down again to put on his boots.

"No, I left him at home," Ravi said gravely. "I wanted to have breakfast with you both without him. He didn't want to stay, so I ended up leaving him tied to the bedposts."

Raul really couldn't figure out if Ravi was joking or not.

"I'm not joking," Ravi added with a smile, apparently reading Raul's face. "He was very happy to be tied up there last night, believe me, but perhaps not so much this morning. We had better not linger too long over breakfast."

Chris snorted with laughter. "Ravi, you are the limit."

"Linus feels he owes you an apology," Ravi said to Raul, with a wink. "I suggest you hold out for the longest blowjob in history. You'll get it."

"Ravi!" Chris said with mock outrage, standing up and swatting Ravi on the arm. Ravi swatted back, and Chris grinned, and they exchanged a swift sudden kiss on the lips that was sweet and erotic at the same time.

And suddenly Raul felt that sex with Ravi might be a fun thing after all.

END


	18. Chapter 18: Matt the Grabber part 1 of 3

**Title**: Matt the Grabber: Part 1 of 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Matt, Linus/Raul**  
Beta**: the incredibly awesome srsly_yes  
**A/N** Matt is a boyfriend of Chris's who came on the scene a long time after Edward, but before Brian.

**Summary**: Chris has a new boyfriend. Which is a good thing. Right?  
**Excerpt**: _Raul and Linus got back from their Canadian trip on a Friday afternoon, and within twenty-four hours Linus had heard that Chris had a new boyfriend from three different people._

**Matt the Grabber: Part 1 of 3**

Raul and Linus got back from their Canadian trip on a Friday afternoon, and within twenty-four hours Linus had heard that Chris had a new boyfriend from three different people. Raul was tired from traveling, and he was sure Linus was too, but Linus decided they must go to the club that evening in the hope of meeting the new guy.

"Ziggy didn't sound particularly enamored of him," Linus mused on the way. "And Ferdinand was definitely lukewarm. I am curious, Raul, very curious."

"Surely if he makes Chris happy, that is a good thing, whatever he's like," Raul ventured.

"I suppose that is true. It's been more than eight years since dear Edward died, after all, and he's had very few serious relationships in that time." Linus was thoughtful. "You'll remember how worried I was before we left."

Raul nodded soberly. They had almost not gone to Canada at all, Linus having been most concerned about leaving Chris for the duration of three months. Chris had been depressed and going through a bad patch in the period before they'd left. He'd taken to shuffling around in sneakers and drab, dingy clothes. Usually a workaholic, he had been working less and sleeping instead, drinking more, and getting high on particularly difficult days.

His long-standing club manager Bob had retired and moved to Florida, which had maybe been some kind of trigger. Linus had helped find a replacement, and although Ferdinand couldn't argue with Chris in the way Bob always had done, he could be trusted to keep a sharp eye on things and report to Linus and Ziggy whenever necessary. Ziggy had collared Chris to replace Linus in his weekly golf game, and thus also make sure things were okay.

"Anyway, let's look forward to meeting the new man," Linus said briskly as they pulled into the club parking lot.

It was quiet, as was customary for mid-afternoon. They found Chris in the downstairs bar, a coffee and a pile of accounts in front of him.

"Hey!" he stood to greet them with a clap on the back (for Linus) and a warm hug (for Raul). "Great to see you. Good trip?"

"We had a wonderful time, Chris." Linus pulled up a chair, and the three of them sat chatting about Canada for a while. Raul thought that Chris was noticeably brighter and happier than he had been when they'd left, and that couldn't just be because they'd just got back. His gray eyes were sharp and clear, his mood humorous and teasing, his smart-casual T-shirt and jeans were clean and ironed.

Linus soon shifted the conversation. "But enough about us, Chris, we need to hear all about your new man!"

"You got back yesterday!" Chris shook his head. "His name's Matt, he's working right now but he's meeting me here later so you'll see him then."

"And what does he do?" Linus probed.

"He's a boat engineer. Started working in the marina office a couple of months ago, that's how we met. He rents boats out, fixes them, pumps gas, takes the rental fees for the dock spaces, all that kind of thing."

This all sounded good to Raul, who was good at sailing himself.

"He's not perhaps what you'd expect," Chris added, suddenly hesitant. "He's very...blunt. Straight talking. Says what he thinks."

"I can hardly wait to meet him," Linus declared.

They sat chatting for a while longer before Chris suddenly said, "Hey, here he is."

Linus and Raul turned around simultaneously to stare at the man walking toward them. He didn't look like Chris's type, which Raul had always understood to be the image of Edward; dark floppy hair, brown eyes behind glasses. This man was younger than Chris by maybe five years, but that was as far as any similarity went. He had blond hair which was shaved short, and light blue eyes. He was dressed very casually in torn jeans, sneakers and a ragged sweater.

"Matt." Chris was on his feet. "I'd like you to meet my friends, just back from vacation. This is Linus. And this is Raul."

The man shook hands with Linus, his smile rather reserved and his greeting gruff. Then he looked at Raul with frank appraisal, and Raul felt his cheeks flush as Matt's eyes widened to gawp and his mouth opened a little.

"Good to meet you, Raul," Matt said, his handshake brief but very firm, with a suggestive squeeze.

* * *

Matt spent his first week in his new job settling into the work while keeping an eye out for possible tail. A large marina like this in a nice area of New Jersey, full of big yachts and smart cabin cruisers, must be loads of rich men who might appreciate a bit of male company.

Unfortunately the boat ownership demographic was tilted heavily toward aggressively straight men with trophy wives, neither of which was of interest to him. Matt suspected the size of the boats compensated for other areas of their lives.

And then one breezy afternoon, he was sitting outside the floating marina office when he spotted a tall fair-haired man in black biking leathers carrying a motorcycle helmet, striding down the dock toward him. Now _that_ was more like it. Please God let this one be at least a little bit gay.

The man reached him and said, "Hey. Afternoon. You the new guy?"

"That's right. Matt. Pleased to meet you. What can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to check the last docking fee went through." The biker had a low, strong voice. He pointed at a small boat tied up not far away. "Not showing up on my bank statement yet. Can you check?"

The boat in question was a small but perfectly formed cabin cruiser. Good taste. Matt went into the office and found it on the computer; there were two registered owners. "Are you Chris or Linus?"

"Chris."

"Well, Chris, the rental's been paid. Went through this morning, it looks like." Matt was pleased by this easy resolution. He wondered if this guy was gay, whether this Linus was his partner. He noticed that Chris wore a ring on the third finger of his left hand, a heavy metal ring with some kind of motif on it that he couldn't make out.

"That's good to know, thanks." Chris looked like he might just turn and leave, and Matt hastened to try and extend the conversation.

"You live near here?"

"Bit further down the coast, that way." Chris gestured. "Linus lives closer than me, he uses the boat more but he's away on vacation at the moment."

Couldn't be a partner then, or Chris would surely be on that vacation too. "So what do you do, Chris?" Matt asked jovially.

"I own a couple of bars, a few restaurants, that kind of thing," Chris looked vaguely embarrassed.

"Yeah?" That sounded interesting. "I'm new to the area, I could do with some recommendations. What's the nightlife like around here?"

Chris threw him a speculative look, and said, "Do you know the club up the coast, right on the beach?"

"I do know it." Matt understood in a flash; it was a gay club, and this was both information about Chris and a sideways enquiry about himself. "Yeah, I've gone there once or twice. Nice place. Big TV screen."

"That's it. It's my club," Chris nodded. He took a card out of his wallet and flicked it over to Matt. "Next time you're there, bring this, it'll get you into the private bar upstairs."

"No shit." Matt was seriously impressed. "I'll take you up on that."

* * *

Matt headed there the following Friday night, by which time he was full of new knowledge and anticipation. He had taken the time to enquire about Chris around the marina, and everything he'd heard had been uniformly positive. The guy must be well-off. He paid his bills promptly at the marina and his credit was good with local suppliers.

He owned a half share in the boat ("Used to be a quarter share, but him and his pal Linus bought the others out," it was explained to him). The pal Linus (who was loaded by all accounts) was away in Canada for a few months, and was reported to have a devoutly loyal much younger boyfriend.

Whereas Chris was single, despite that ring he wore, and the air of loneliness he radiated was apparently due to the tragic death of the love of his life some years ago. Quite a few years ago, nobody quite knew how long. Long enough, Matt concluded, that he was definitely due someone new to share his life. Someone who could fix his engine when required…

At the club, the card did indeed get him in the upstairs bar, which was elegantly decorated if dimly lit.

"Chris around?" he asked the bartender, with a studied show of nonchalance.

The bartender said cautiously that he'd find out (had to screen out the masses of hangers-on, Matt supposed) and ten minutes later Chris appeared from a door behind the bar. He looked...hot, but a bit worse for wear, Matt thought. Gray eyes slightly glazed, fair hair ruffled, feet stumbling as he rounded the counter. Huh, three sheets to the wind and it wasn't ten PM yet.

"Hey," Chris greeted Matt. "It's Matt the marina guy. What're you drinking?"

"Some kind of Scotch." Matt was relieved to be remembered. "There's a big selection."

"I go to Scotland every couple of years and stock up. Best stuff is out of sight." Chris rapped on the bar, and the bartender silently reached down and brought out a bottle with a peeling label and two fresh glasses.

Matt wasn't a great whiskey connoisseur, but he liked that Chris clearly was. They took the bottle to a corner table, where Chris ensconced himself comfortably and asked Matt about his day, and his job, and himself. Matt was careful to only take small sips of the whiskey, and to share only what he felt comfortable with.

At one point an attractive young man with a winning smile slid across the room and perched on Chris's chair. "Hey, Chris."

"Hey," Chris replied, friendly, but not responding to the hand caressing his arm.

"Wanna come downstairs and dance?"

"Naw, not tonight," Chris was gruff.

"Well, if you change your mind...or if you want some company later on, let me know." The man slid away with a pout and a meaningful eyebrow raise.

"Guess it's not hard to get laid, owning a club like this." Matt spoke his thoughts.

Chris grinned. "Yeah, if I didn't own the place I'd never get lucky."

"That's not what I meant." Matt felt his face grow hot with embarrassment at the unintended slight.

"I know. You're right, anyway." Chris put his glass down on the table, his smile gone. "It's not hard getting laid. It's much harder having a decent conversation with someone."

He might as well well have had _I'm a sad lonely sucker _tattooed on his forehead.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Matt was almost completely sober while Chris was nearly comatose in his chair. A guy wearing a headset wandered across the room; Matt could see from the name badge on his lapel that his name was Ferdinand and he was the bar manager.

"Chris, you okay? You're not driving home like that," Ferdinand cast a dubious eye at Chris's sleepy eyes and hunched posture.

"Naw. I'll crash in my office," Chris muttered.

"You don't want to do that," Matt objected. It sounded most uncomfortable. "I'll drop you home, if you want. Down the coast, right?"

"Yeah. Well, if it's not too much trouble..."

Excellent. They departed soon afterwards. Matt mentally crossed his fingers and hoped his car would start. It was a very old battered vehicle but he couldn't afford anything better right now. Fortunately it hummed into life straight away.

Chris slumped in the passenger seat, giving occasional directions, until they turned off the main roads onto a track down toward the ocean. Matt whistled in admiration at the stretch of private beach with house, garden, barbecue, garage, and pool.

It was just as nice inside. Spacious, good quality furniture, ocean views. Matt could imagine spending a lot more time here. He couldn't help but notice a large framed photograph on the sideboard; a man with dark hair and spectacles, smiling self-consciously and clutching a newspaper. Hmm.

"Stay if you want," Chris mumbled as he headed into the main bedroom. He unlaced his biker boots, dropped the leather pants, and flopped into bed wearing T-shirt and boxer shorts.

Matt was a little unsure if Chris meant him to stay literally there on the bed, or just stay over; there was a spare room. He took a risk and sat down on the bed, taking off his shoes. Chris didn't object, so Matt shed his jeans too and lay down, careful to keep a few inches away. To his pleasure, Chris threw out an arm and pulled him closer.

Chris was snoring a few minutes later. Matt lay awake for a while, silently appreciating his surroundings, before he too drifted off.

He woke abruptly in the middle of the night when something very hard pressed up against his ass. He took a moment to remember where he was, and it took all his self-control to swallow his surprise and lie still, as Chris sighed and ground up against him through two sets of fabirc, his breath hot and heavy on the back of Matt's neck.

Although it wasn't exactly the sensual first sexual encounter Matt might have hoped for, he didn't mind being a masturbatory aid for the semi-conscious Chris, and he started to push back and rock a little in the bed. He was horny himself by the time Chris groaned and came in a sticky mess behind him, and jacked himself off surreptitiously as Chris sank back into slumber.

Well. What a night this had turned out to be.

* * *

Matt got up late the following morning, managed to extract himself from the dried sticky bedclothes with some difficulty, and had a long hot shower. He was in the kitchen drinking coffee when Chris appeared in the doorway, looking dishevelled and sheepish in clean pants and a T-shirt.

"I'm sorry about last night," Chris said, straight up. "I had too much to drink. I was an asshole."

"No problem," Matt assured him immediately. "I enjoyed it."

"Well." Chris shuffled his feet. "It was good of you to take me home. Thanks."

"Worth it just to get this view from your window. Awesome having your own private beach." Matt pondered how best to extend contact. "I have to go to work now, but do you want a lift back to the club to pick up your bike?"

"That would be great, thanks." Chris headed toward the coffee machine. "Just let me get some coffee."

Matt headed outside, wondering how to maneuver a return visit. Chris's car sat there, a sleek black Chevy; much nicer than Matt's old runabout which was always on the verge of breakdown. Suddenly a thought occurred; if his car did actually break down, he'd have to come back and get it. And Chris could give him a lift instead.

How to engineer a breakdown-he wasn't a boat engineer without knowing something about cars too. Matt popped the hood and pulled out the fuel pump fuse. Result. He shoved the fuse in his pocket, and when Chris appeared a couple of minutes later cradling a thermos in one hand, Matt was in the driver's seat attempting to crank the engine without success.

"This old pile of crap's always breaking down on me," Matt explained, vainly turning the key. "Can we take your car? I'd try and sort it out now but I have to get to work, I'll come back later and fix it."

"Sure," Chris said, then snapped his fingers. "Hold on. I've got another idea."

Was this good, or bad? Matt wasn't sure. Chris headed back into the house, emerging with a different bunch of keys. He went up the far side of the house toward the garage, swung open the door, and fuck! A little red Ferrari glowed within.

"This is yours?" Matt came up to peer over Chris's shoulder. "What is it, a '99? Nice! Very nice."

"It's mine, but I don't use it. Why don't you borrow it until you get yours fixed." Chris tossed Matt a Ferrari keychain.

Matt was astonished. He knew he shouldn't hesitate, but really- "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it should be driven more. It's all insured and everything." Chris shrugged. "It belonged to Bob, my old manager at the club. He never had a weakness for anything except cars. He retired a few months ago and moved to Florida, and sold off half his collection. I thought I might drive it, but I prefer the bike. The Chevy's fine when I do want a car."

"Well. That's really generous of you," Matt burbled, and his mind was already deciding that his banged-up old car was pretty much a write-off anyway. It would only make sense to hang onto the Ferrari for a while. For as long as he could possibly wangle it.

* * *

The drive to the club in the Ferrari was heavenly. And best of all, as Chris was getting out of the car, he said offhand, "Got any dinner plans for tonight?"

"No." A date, a real date! The gods were smiling on him today.

"I'm going to my steakhouse this afternoon to look at accounts. Why don't you meet me there this evening?"

"That would be awesome!" Matt burbled. He got directions, and they agreed to a time. Matt headed off to work, smug as he arrived in the Ferrari. He found time to make a call to arrange for his old car to be towed from Chris's house; he didn't want to risk Chris poking around under the hood and perhaps spotting what he'd done.

He made the effort to shower and change after work before heading to the steakhouse, and was amused to find that Chris too had taken trouble over his appearance. His fair hair was neatly combed, his eyes were clear and sharp, his shirt crisp and clean. He was a good-looking guy when he wasn't drunk and clumsy. Really a good catch.

"Matt. Hey," Chris stood up as Matt approached, and Matt dared lean in, and got a kiss on the cheek. Ha, if he played his cards right he'd be back in bed at that house on the ocean tonight...

And it went very well. Chris was all smiles, dipped eyelids, open body language. Matt remembered that Chris could get laid anytime and what was important was decent conversation; he delved deep into his reserves to talk about boats, sailing, life in New England where he'd grown up, and to ask Chris about his work, travel, motorcycles, friends. He skirted around how he'd come to New Jersey, but as Chris was rather obviously skirting around his own sensitive subjects (that dead boyfriend) it didn't matter.

They ended up kissing and groping like teenagers in the parking lot outside afterwards, and heading back to Chris's house in the Ferrari. Matt drove, and Chris kept a hand resting on his shoulder all the way.

In the house they embraced, then Matt drew back a few inches and said, "Do me a favor."

"Sure." Chris's breathing was heavy.

"Can you get rid of the photo?" Matt jerked his head toward the frame on the side. "I feel like he's staring at me all the time."

Chris turned pale, and for a second Matt knew he'd gone too far and was about to be chucked out. He started to backtrack. "I didn't mean throw it out, perhaps just turn it away-"

But Chris was already walking toward the photo. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his arms, and carried it away into the bedroom. Matt followed cautiously to see Chris open a closet, wrap the frame tenderly in a sweater, and place it on a shelf.

And then the door was closed on it, and Matt knew he'd won. He'd fucking won, _yah boo sucks to you Mr Photograph_.

* * *

A week later they were definitely in a relationship. Chris expressed interest in where Matt lived, until eventually Matt caved and agreed to show him. "It's just a crappy room in a godawful house. You won't want to sit down, let alone stay."

"I'm just curious," Chris insisted.

The house was in one of the seedier neighborhoods of New Jersey. They took the Chevy. Matt parked his embarrassment as they went inside, and focused on the good outcome that might materialize from this visit.

"You live here?" Chris swiveled, his eye falling in turn on the damp patches, the worn carpet, the bare bulb. "I think you could sue your landlord. The safety violations-"

Matt laughed hollowly. "Beggars can't be choosers. I can't afford to get evicted. I'm just hoping the crack dealer down the hall moves on soon. He should be able to afford better than this."

"There's a crack dealer down the hall?" Chris looked suitably horrified.

"Well, I haven't gone to check, but he has all kinds of people visiting, all hours." Matt left a deliberate pause. "You get used to it, really."

He watched Chris pace a step or two around the tiny room, and hardly dared move or speak in case he interrupted a train of thought. He was amply rewarded a minute later, when Chris said abruptly, "Matt, you can't live here. You really can't. We'll find somewhere else, I'll stake you, you can pay me back whenever."

Result. Matt silently rejoiced before pushing on the open door. "That's very good of you, Chris. Of course, you've got plenty of space in your house if you wanted a roommate—"

"NO." The reaction was loud and intense, and Matt regretted asking. Blast that dead boyfriend and the screwed-up-ed-ness he'd left behind. But Chris immediately softened the blow. "No offense. It's me, not you… look, the money's not a problem. I'm sure we can find you somewhere else nice."

Matt saw another opportunity. "Those new apartments near the club look very nice."

Chris looked a little startled by this precise suggestion.

"I was just thinking the other day, if only I lived there, I could see you easily any night you were at the club," Matt bulldozed on.

"True." Chris smiled a little.

They went to see an apartment the next day, and it was everything Matt had hoped for; roomy, comfortable, well-furnished. The rental office required credit that he just didn't have, so Chris ended up taking it in his own name, and subletting to Matt.

"We'll sort out the details later," Chris muttered, and Matt basked in confidence that Chris wasn't going to demand any money. He anticipated performing frequent blowjobs and submitting to an occasional good hard fuck, no problem at all. And if he added companionship with decent conversation into the mix, that would let him stay in this apartment as long as he wanted.

* * *

END OF PART 1. TBC.

Next part: Linus and Raul get to know Matt, and they don't like what they find.


	19. Chapter 19: Matt the Grabber part 2 of 3

**Title**: Matt the Grabber: Part 2 of 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Matt, Linus/Raul  
**Warning**: for attempted sexual violence**  
Beta**: the incredibly awesome srsly_yes**  
**

**Summary**: Linus and Raul get to know Matt, and they don't like what they find.  
**Excerpt**: _Linus called out, "You know, in all the years we've known each other, I never thought we would fall out over a man!" _

**Matt the Grabber Part 2 of 3**

Raul had been fucked by many men over the years, but never by someone who combined raw, rugged, coarse sexuality with such a deft touch. The palm on his cock was calloused and rough, but the fingers delicately poised to tease and titillate. Raul gasped, squeezed his eyes shut tight, grabbed the edge of the couch with both hands, and groaned a "God, yes!" as he came into Matt's expert fist.

Matt gave him a minute to recover, then reached for a condom, saying, "Stay where you are. My turn."

Raul lay still on his back, not sure what Matt wanted to do. A minute later Matt mounted his chest, and stuck his cock into Raul's mouth. Raul took it, enjoying the fullness in his mouth, although he wasn't very comfortable; the old casting couch in Chris's office really had seen better days and the threadbare arm dug into the back of his head.

Without warning, Matt pulled out, stripped off the condom and came all over Raul's face with a series of strangled gasps. "Look at you all dirty!.._Look _at you!"

Both amused and annoyed, Raul concentrated on not opening his mouth while wiping gunk off his face.

Matt, settling contently back alongside him on the couch, noticed Raul's grimace. "Hey, I bet you let that boyfriend of yours come in your mouth, up your ass and anywhere else he damn well wants."

"That's different," Raul objected, a little piously. "Linus and I are fluid bonded."

"Fluid bonded!" Matt chortled. "Well, how about that. Maybe I can talk Chris into that one of these days. He's such a stickler for this condom crap. Mind you, I guess it's necessary in an open relationship." He lingered on the words _open relationship _with evident pleasure. "You really are the cutest thing, you know that. And next time, I want to fuck your tight little ass."

Raul couldn't help but grin at this pillow talk, while musing on whether Linus might be tempted to watch that. He suspected not. Because after years of enjoying voyeurism to the full with all sorts of men involved, Linus had apparently found one whom he couldn't stand under any circumstances.

* * *

Raul knew that Linus disliked Matt from Day One. He'd seen it from the moment they'd shaken hands at the club, watched Linus meet Matt's steely stare, and glare straight back. He'd then watched Linus visibly fighting this negative first impression, _wanting_ to try and like Chris's new boyfriend, goddamnit! There were smiles on the surface, but a strained cynical note to Linus's voice that meant it didn't ring quite true.

As Chris had warned them, Matt was a blunt kind of guy, his tone gruff, his manner verging on brusque. He obviously quickly perceived the antipathy from Linus, and didn't trouble to be enormously polite to him after the initial conversational exchanges. Linus ended up talking to Chris, while Matt chatted to Raul instead.

By contrast, Raul quite took to Matt. They quickly got into a conversation about boats and sailing, and Raul found Matt both knowledgeable and enthusiastic.

"But you don't like him," Raul ventured as he and Linus left the club soon afterwards.

"I'm sure he's a great guy, maybe I'm just too tired to appreciate him right now," Linus sighed, then his eyebrows hit his hairline. "What's_ that_ doing there? Has Chris started driving it after all?"

Raul followed Linus's gaze to a little red sports car parked ostentatiously close to the entrance. "Uh... wasn't that one of Bob's?"

"It was indeed. Biff!" Linus hailed the burly doorman standing nearby. "Whose Ferrari is that?"

"The bosses new man's driving it," Biff said, his gnarled face giving away nothing about what he felt. "The big man lent it to him, just a loaner, he says." The poker face cracked a little. "Can't see him getting it back anytime soon."

"I see." Linus's own face cracked into a frown, although he didn't say anything more.

* * *

They met Matt a few times over the next couple of weeks. Chris obviously wanted them to double-date, which Raul found quite fun, and Linus clearly found not fun at all.

Matt and Raul had hooked up sexually for the first time one day when Linus was at his weekly golf game with Ziggy, and Chris busy working. Raul had taken Matt out for a spin in the cabin cruiser. They sailed around the coast a little, then out into the ocean, where they stopped for a while to sunbathe on the deck. Raul stripped off his T-shirt and lay down on a towel, aware of Matt's beady blue eyes drinking him in.

"Are you and Linus in one of these open relationship things?" Matt asked.

"Um, yes," Raul said, a little surprised at the directness, and the next thing Matt was kissing him. Matt's lips were rough but warm, and Raul responded readily. Soon they were rolling around on the towel together, naked, and ended up with cocks pressed together, coming almost simultaneously into each others' chests. Raul lay back panting in sticky heaven, listening to Matt mumbling almost incoherently.

"Open relationships, fucking awesome!" Matt gabbled. "Not something I've ever had suggested to me before. When Chris told me that was the deal, take it or leave it, I didn't know what to think... but fuck, it makes so much sense. No worrying about falling off the wagon and sneaking around..."

"Mmm," Raul agreed, a little uncertainly. He had no doubt Chris wouldn't blink an eyelid at what they'd done. He found he was less sure about Linus...

He arrived home later to find Linus full of newly acquired gossip from Ziggy, including the information that Chris was paying the rent on Matt's apartment.

"I don't know what the fuck Chris is playing at!" Linus ranted. "Those apartments are very upscale. It must be costing an arm and a leg. I've asked Ziggy to check Matt out on his computers and suchlike."

"What, you think Matt's a criminal or something?" Raul was quite excited. "What might he have done?"

"I don't know," Linus said crossly. "Fraud, sexual deviancy? Anything would do if Chris might be persuaded he's not a good thing." He peered closely at Raul. "Maybe _you_ can tell me, any particular sexual deviancy?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Raul answered meekly, relieved that Linus didn't seem jealous. (Not that Linus was ever jealous, of course).

Ziggy's report on Matt, a few days later, was disappointing. No criminal record. The cop had traced several minor incidents dating back a number of years, back in Maine, but none had ever come to anything.

"Two arrests for bar brawls, accused of starting fights, no charges," Ziggy related.

Linus scowled. "Chris has been arrested more times than that for bar fights! Is that all? Nothing about fraud? Sex, soliciting, that kind of thing?"

"No fraud. One incident report after a neighbor heard shouting from a man coming from his apartment." Ziggy looked at his notes. "Matt claimed he'd been having consensual noisy sex, the guy he was with didn't want to press any charges, the officer thought it might not have been as consensual as Matt claimed but also that the neighbor was motivated by homophobia. And that's as interesting as it gets."

"Fuck it, _I _have a worse record than that!" Linus threw up his hands, then looked rather sheepishly at Ziggy. "Not recently, of course."

Raul had heard various stories about the younger Linus, like the time he had taken in a runaway boy only to have an enraged father turn up on his doorstep and blow a hole in his ceiling with a shotgun.

"Not recently," Ziggy agreed. "I think, Linus, you're just going to have to live with him. As it were."

* * *

Things came to a head one day when Chris dropped around to invite Linus and Raul for dinner, and Linus said yes until it became clear that Matt would be there too. "Actually Chris, maybe we'll take a rain-check. It's been a long week."

Raul, curled up on the window seat in the dining room, hidden behind the curtain, strained to hear Chris's response. It came loud and clear.

"Bullshit!" Chris wasn't fooled for a second. "Why don't you like him? What's your problem?"

"I don't think I'm the one with the problem," Linus said with dignity. "He's manipulative. He's sneaky."

Chris snorted. "Manipulative my ass."

"He's good enough that you don't notice him do it, Chris. Think about it. You've known him what, four months? And he's living in an apartment which you pay for, driving your car, drinking and eating for free in all your establishments-"

"Big fucking deal!" Chris snapped. "Every boyfriend you've ever had has moved in with _you_, lived off _you_ and driven _your_ car from the day you met!"

Raul peeked out from behind the curtain and just caught Linus's expression, righteous indignation mixed with reluctant acknowledgement that Chris had a point. When he spoke again, it was to take a different tack. "You've stopped wearing your ring."

"It's not appropriate now, is it?" Chris was defensive now.

"And where's Edward's photograph gone?" Linus demanded.

"Fuck off!" There came the sound of a thud, a fist being smashed onto a table perhaps.

When Chris spoke again, it was much more quietly. "I just don't want to be alone anymore."

Raul felt a lump in his throat.

There was a short pause before Linus muttered, "Maybe it's better to be alone than-"

"I'm going home," Chris cut in. "I'll see you."

Chris's feet sounded on the wooden hallway floor, growing distant. Then Linus called out, "You know, in all the years we've known each other, I never thought we would fall out over a man!"

_"Fuck-off!"_ Chris shouted. And the door slammed.

Raul pushed the curtain aside and ventured hesitantly into the dining room as Linus came in from the hall, brow furrowed, fists curled into frustrated balls.

"My darling Raul," Linus said in a tone of despair. "Tell me Matt the Grabber is good in bed. That would at least make this whole situation more comprehensible to me."

Raul didn't answer directly, as Matt _was_ rather good in bed, and it seemed unlikely Linus actually wanted to hear this. "I don't think it's the sex so much as just being part of a couple," he offered instead.

"I know that, I really do. And I should be glad for him, but I'm a bad person, Raul. I want them to break up even if that makes Chris miserable." Linus threw up his hands. "Listen to me! How selfish am I?"

Raul sensed an unspoken part of the problem, hesitated fractionally, then decided to resolve it. "I won't fuck him anymore. Matt, I mean."

"Raul, I-I-I was not asking that." Linus stuttered with astonishment.

"I know that," Raul echoed.

"I would never ask that, however much I dislike him. You must always do what _you_ want to do," Linus went on, and Raul could not help but smile. He knew Linus held this position because _emhe/em_ wanted the freedom to fuck whomever took his fancy, and was far too fair-minded to insist Raul behave any differently.

"I don't want to fuck him, not anymore." Raul was sincere. "Really. I... I hope you and Chris don't fall out."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Chris and I have been friends way too long to _really_ fall out over something like this," Linus said briskly.

But he did look relieved, and Raul knew he'd done the right thing; he'd eased Linus's tension just enough that hopefully now they could all be friends again. They could meet up with Chris while Matt was busy at work or elsewhere; double dating was definitely off the agenda.

* * *

Matt had no liking for Linus, the fat old guy who wore those revolting patterned shirts, with his distrustful eyes and sarcastic tone. He was glad he'd sweet-talked Chris into the apartment and the car before the best pal had appeared on the scene.

There was one enormous plus to Linus's return though, and that was the much younger boyfriend. The first time Matt saw Raul, sitting in the downstairs bar, he felt his jaw drop and drool start to form. Once introduced, he could hardly believe it. Jesus Christ almighty, this beautiful creature voluntarily chose to be with Linus? Linus really must be loaded. Matt sure couldn't think of another reason why a young man as fit and handsome as Raul would choose a boyfriend who had to have at least twenty years on him, and could stand to lose twenty pounds at that.

Matt took his time initially to ascertain how far this Open Relationship business went. He wasn't at all sure if it would be acceptable to try and put the moves on the Best Pal's boyfriend. But that turned out to be okay; Chris himself obviously was on intimate terms with Raul, at least judging by how far he stuck his tongue down Raul's throat on occasion. Matt enjoyed a couple of sexual encounters with Raul, out on the boat, at the club.

And then, nothing. Chris started to steer Matt clear of Linus, and opportunities to see Raul were accordingly limited. Matt grumbled a bit, but didn't dare push.

His chance to progress came one night when Linus was throwing a party, a big bash at his house, and the invitation was extended to Matt, too.

"I'm honored," Matt said to Chris.

Chris wagged a finger. "Please be nice to Linus. Just for one night."

The fat man knew how to throw a party. His house (which was huge and impressive, and made Matt a little sorry that he didn't get on with Linus better) was filled with good food, very good wine, and rather attractive men. Just how Linus managed to find such good-looking young men was a source of amazement to Matt; there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply…

...which surely made it an ideal time to put the moves on Raul. But it was very late into the night when Matt finally found Raul on his own, in the kitchen. He was standing by the sink, examining a bottle, and Matt stole up behind him.

"Hey. Guess who." He put his hands around to cover Raul's eyes.

"Matt, hello." Raul laughed a little, and removed the hands. "Long time no see. I hope you are having a good time?"

"Yeah, but not as good as I'm about to have." Matt's hands snaked back around Raul's torso.

Raul stood very still, then said, "Please don't touch me."

"What?" Matt's hands continued to roam, and when Raul reached to pull them away, he persisted. "Oh, come on. You know you want to."

"No." Raul was icily polite. "Please stop."

The little tease. Matt moved forward a little, placing his hands on Raul's hips, pressing his hard-on against Raul's ass crack. Even through two layers of clothing, Raul's ass felt gorgeous; pert and rounded and peach-like.

"Matt, no, stop." Raul's voice was louder now, and he tried to step sideways. Matt didn't budge, holding him in place by the sink, envisaging taking this lovely creature right here, right now, over the kitchen sink-

_"MATT."_

Matt nearly jumped out of his skin at the stern voice behind them. He let go of Raul and wheeled around to find Linus standing with his arms folded and a face like thunder.

"Raul said no," Linus said, a tingle of wrath showing through an otherwise level tone. "He said no, and that means you let go of him and step away fast."

Matt stepped away dumbly.

"If I hear you haven't respected a _no_ again, from anyone, I will ruin you," Linus spoke now with slow chilly rage. "Understand?"

"Goddamn fuss about nothing," Matt protested.

"Do you _understand?"_

"Yes I fucking understand!" Matt roared back. Raul slipped past him to join Linus, and away they went.

* * *

Matt was really worried for a while that Linus would tell Chris what had happened, and mentally lined up his argument for the defense ("Oh come on, Raul's anybody's after a few drinks and he'd been leading me on all night,") but it wasn't needed. Chris was clearly oblivious.

As the weeks passed, Matt nursed the experience in his mind, and eventually decided that it wasn't Raul who was the problem. It was Linus. No wonder Raul had been saying _emno/em_ if he knew Linus was nearby and going to react like that! So all Matt had to do was get Raul somewhere Linus wouldn't be, and bingo. That tight little ass would be his.

He had to wait a couple of months before the opportunity came. Linus and Chris were both going to some deeply dull sounding local business seminar. Matt thought dropping round Linus's place might be a good move, but on the day a better opportunity presented itself; Raul turned up at the marina. Matt was working on an outboard engine in the yard when he spotted Raul boarding the cabin cruiser in the distance.

It was an invitation. Matt could see it no other way.

He waited patiently until Raul had gone down into the cabin, then strolled nonchalantly across to board the boat himself.

END OF PART 2. TBC


	20. Chapter 20: Matt the Grabber part 3 of 3

**Title**: Matt the Grabber: Part 3 of 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Chris/Matt, Linus/Raul. House has a walk-on appearance.  
**Warning**: for attempted sexual violence  
**Beta**: the awesome srsly_yes**  
**

**Summary**: Matt thinks he and Raul have some unfinished business. House sticks his nose into Matt's past.  
**Excerpt**: _"Well look who it is," Matt drawled. "Cute-ass Raul, all alone."_

**Matt the Grabber Part 3 of 3**

Raul was cheerful and humming as he moved around the cabin, his mind on upcoming blue sky and wide ocean, when footsteps on the deck above startled him. The sight of Matt's looming figure on the stairs made him freeze with alarm. Damnit, he had really hoped not to run into him-

"Well look who it is," Matt drawled. "Cute-ass Raul, all alone. I think we had some unfinished business."

"No we don't," Raul was swift to say.

"Oh, come on. The kitchen that time? Your fat fuck of a boyfriend interrupting us?" Matt spread out his hands.

"We have no unfinished business. Can you leave," Raul said firmly.

Matt's face crinkled into ghostly mirth. "You wanna play hard to get, huh?"

And he launched himself at Raul. His position on the stairs gave him the advantage of height in the small, confined space; Raul, despite being strong and muscular (he usually had no trouble getting rid of unwanted advances) couldn't avoid being knocked to the ground.

He landed awkwardly on his side, his head hitting the floor, and this rendered him momentarily dazed as Matt clambered on top of him, groping and pulling at his clothes. Raul felt the cold wood of the floor against his cheek, and the boat beneath rocking on the water, and this sensation brought memories of a long-ago boat trip flooding into his mind. Small rickety boat, a terribly long journey across the ocean, too many men-far too many fucking men-

No! That was then, this was now, and everything was different. With a huge effort, Raul wrenched himself out from under Matt, rolling to the side, and scrambling to his feet before Matt could pull him back. Unfortunately, Matt was still between him and the stairs; Matt hauled himself up as Raul hesitated, and their gazes locked.

Raul made a quick decision. He dropped onto his right knee at lightening speed, swinging his left arm wildly. As Matt lunged forward to grab the arm, Raul cupped his right hand and struck upwards toward Matt's groin. The heel of Raul's hand caught Matt square in the balls; Raul's fingers immediately tightened to squeeze and yank toward him. Even through clothing, he felt skin and flesh tear; Matt let out a roar that could have woken the dead, and fell as if poleaxed.

And poleaxed was, Raul thought, pretty much what had happened...

"What...what the fuck...fuck...fuck..." Matt wheezed, as Raul moved swiftly around the cabin toward the stairs. "You're...you're...you're not gonna leave me here!"

That had been what Raul intended to do, but actually it didn't seem feasible. This was Linus and Chris's boat; he could hardly leave Matt crumpled on the floor, possibly bleeding to death.

"Are you going to behave yourself?" Raul asked, in his best impression of his fourth grade teacher.

"What...I'm in fucking agony, man!" Matt's face had gone completely white. "Get me to the ER!"

* * *

Raul managed to get Matt to his feet and off the boat, and ended up driving him to the ER in the Ferrari. Matt, apparently in shock, sat down very gingerly and stayed very still with with his eyes closed all the way. His breathing was shallow and ragged.

"He hurt his groin," Raul said diplomatically to the nurse who took Matt's details.

"I work in a boatyard; boat swung around and hit me in the crotch," Matt supplemented with surprising speed.

Raul raised his eyebrows as the nurse departed, and Matt explained through blueish lips, "Saw that happen to a guy a few years ago. He tore his scrotum. Think that's what's happened to me."

Ouch. Raul winced in sympathy, but didn't say he was sorry. He got Matt propped up in a chair in the waiting area, then told Matt he was leaving.

"Raul, we always got on alright, you and me, didn't we?" Matt's tone was beseeching. "Until your boyfriend got all jealous and ruined it all."

Raul opened his mouth to contradict, but in fact Matt was really quite close to the mark. They _had_ got on. Raul nodded instead.

"No need to tell Chris about this little misunderstanding, is there?" Matt went on. Raul frowned, and Matt added hastily, "I mean I misunderstood the situation, came on a bit strong perhaps. I'm really sorry. Are we okay?"

Raul sighed. "We are not okay, Matt, you were going to assault me."

"Alright, we're not okay, but please could you not tell Chris." Matt's tone was pleading now. "I get the message now, and believe me, I won't do it again."

Raul envisaged telling Chris and Linus what had happened, imagined Chris's disappointment, Linus's rage. Chris and Matt would break up for sure, either that or Chris and Linus would break up for sure. He envisaged Chris alone, lonely, miserable, shuffling around in old clothes again, seeking refuge in drink and drugs. He remembered how worried Linus had been that Chris would just end it all one day, either deliberately or through sheer lack of care for himself. Raul did not want to return to this situation.

"I won't tell Chris, and you won't do it again," Raul said tersely.

"Thanks. Hey, what was that thing you did to me?" Matt's voice was tinged with relief and admiration through agony. "Some kind of martial art move?"

"Yes, it's called _Monkey Steals the Peach,_" Raul explained, unable to stop a smile.

* * *

The monkey had not damaged the peach as badly as Matt had initially feared. He needed stitches in a place he had hoped would never need such medical attention, and it hurt worse than any pain he could ever remember, but drugs and ice-packs helped with the pain and a jock strap provided support until it headed.

He explained to a sympathetic Chris that he'd hurt himself handling a boat. Thank fuck, erections and all that stuff resumed normal service within a couple of weeks. Full recovery took a while, but it was okay in the end. Matt knew he'd had a lucky escape.

Chris was continuing to steer clear of places where Matt would meet Linus, and that made it easy to avoid Raul too. Aware of the power Raul held over him, Matt was punctilious with impeccable behavior when they did happen to meet.

* * *

Time passed. Life was good. Matt enjoyed living in his nice apartment and driving the Ferrari. He was all too well aware that Chris could take it all away, if he wanted, and pondered on how best to protect himself.

They were sitting outside on the beach one evening after an excellent barbecue dinner, the sun setting and a cool breeze fanning them, when Matt remarked, "I was thinking we should get one of them civil union things."

Chris scrunched his eyes up, and Matt knew instantly he wasn't going to win this one. He sought an alternative, seeking to appeal to Chris's fair-mindedness. "I mean, I sometimes feel very vulnerable with no legal status. Like, if you got hit by a bus tomorrow, I'd lose everything."

That made Chris flinch; Matt remembered dimly that Saint Edward had died in a motor accident. He blustered on anyway. "I'd lose my apartment, my car, I'd be back in my old shithole room in a second."

"Yeah, I can see what you mean." Chris spoke slowly, reluctantly.

"Doesn't have to be a civil union, but if I just knew there was something in your will about me I'd sleep easier," Matt bulldozed to his point.

Chris drummed his fingers on his chair. "Let me think about this, okay?"

* * *

Raul was curled up in his favorite window seat behind the curtain in the dining room one afternoon, when he heard Chris's voice out in the hall. Cozy and engrossed in a book, Raul didn't bother to get up, figuring he could say hello in a minute.

He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but raised voices suddenly drew his attention. He peeped out to see Chris and Linus standing by the dining table, Chris with his hand resting on a small stack of paperwork. Linus... well. Linus was red-faced and shaking; Raul was instantly alarmed. He had never seen Linus get so upset in such a short amount of time.

"You're what?" Linus was saying. "You're changing your will to put _him_ in it?"

"Yeah. Linus, I don't want to do this without you-"

"You're going to have to. I'm not fucking well executing any will where your beautiful house, Edward's house, goes to him. Chris, you've known him less than two years-"

Chris's reply was unexpectedly sharp. "Damnit, did I say no when you told me you were giving Raul _your_ house in _your_ will, after only six months?"

That made Raul jump. He craned his neck to see Linus's face, which was running a gauntlet of emotions: shock, anger, disbelief.

"That was nothing like this," Linus said at last. "I had cancer and I thought I might die. You are fit and healthy, and if he's trying to blackmail you into this, I swear-"

"Nobody's fucking well blackmailing anyone into anything! I'm just trying to give my boyfriend some peace of mind! If I got hit by a bus-if I fell off my motorcycle-"

Raul winced, amazed that Chris had said such a thing.

The argument raged for several minutes. Raul shrank back behind the curtain and into himself, trying not to listen, humming inwardly, blocking it out. He hated people fighting, especially Linus. Linus was so peaceful and good-natured, anything that got him angry had to be really serious.

The word _Australia_ caught Raul's attention again, when Linus said, "Look, you know I'm about to go to Australia. Raul and I are going to be away for six months. Don't do anything while I'm gone, give it time, there's no hurry. We'll discuss it when I'm back."

Chris was silent.

"If you still feel like this when I'm back, fine, you'll have my blessing." Linus made the big concession. "What's six months in the grand scheme of things?"

Chris grumbled a bit, but agreed. When Raul dared to peek out a few minutes later, Chris and his pile of papers had gone, and Linus was sitting at the table looking older than his years. Raul slipped out and went to slide his arms around his beloved Linus.

"Raul, dear me." Linus saw where he had come from, and looked surprised. He leaned into Raul's embrace. "Did you hear all that?"

"Some of it," Raul murmured, and couldn't help but ask. "Did you really put me into your will after only six months? While you were in hospital, that first time?"

"I did." Linus sighed into Raul's chest. "_Je ne regrette rien._"

Raul had to look that one up.

* * *

Six months was okay. Matt could live with that kind of delay. With Linus and Raul away on vacation, he and Chris spent more time together, and Matt looked forward with considerable satisfaction to the day Linus would return and have to watch Matt get written into Chris's will. Eat dirt, fat guy.

When Chris called to say that an 'old Princeton buddy' had come to stay for a couple of days, Matt was moderately suspicious. The only person Chris had ever mentioned in relation to Princeton was an ex. "Not that Wilson guy you used to go out with?"

"No no," Chris hastened to say. "It's a...friend of his. His name's House. Look, I'll call you when he's gone."

But Matt was curious to meet this guy with the stupid name (House, honestly, who was called that?), and wangled a dinner invite a few evenings later. He arrived to find Chris looking nervous and smelling faintly of whiskey.

One look at House told Matt he had nothing to fear. The guy was a cripple with a cane, and had been hurt in an accident; a large white bandage disfigured his shoulder. Even apart from all that, he was nothing like the Blessed Edward demographic that Chris always went for. House was older than Chris, blue eyed, greying. No threat whatsoever.

They chatted over beer. House was a doctor, which amused Matt. "Fucking great advertisement for the medical profession you are, with a crippled leg and a whacking great bandage on your shoulder."

House's eyes gleamed. "What an interesting idea. Only people with no disabilities should be allowed to become doctors. And quite right too. Crippled doctors can't possible provide decent medical care. You could stand for Congress on a platform like that, actually. I can see the placards now: _Cripples Out! Disabled Doctors, no thanks!_"

He had a smart alec on his hands. Fucking pompous doctor, looking down on him. Matt bristled and the conversation went downhill from there, until House called Matt, "A grade A gold digging bastard."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Matt couldn't believe his ears. Where had this come from? He'd only met the guy half an hour ago!

"I _mean_, you're obviously a fortune-hunter on the lookout to screw a rich boat-owning lonely idiot in search of some male company," House stated.

Matt felt his jaw drop and anger flare, as House went on. "That's a flashy car you drove up in; you don't buy that on a boat mechanic's salary. And you live in one of these fancy beachfront apartments, don't you? I drove down to take a look the other day."

This fucking cripple had been spying on him! Matt leaped to his feet.

"No way can you afford the rent on that unless it comes out of someone else's bank account," House was relentless. "You're nothing but a freeloading bloodsucking son-of-a-bitch- "

Matt swung his fist, but Chris was there holding him back.

"I didn't come here to be fucking insulted!" Matt yelled, and suddenly a sliver of fright ran right through his body. Panic as well as rage sent him storming out of the door, into the Ferrari, and home.

By the time he arrived back at his apartment building, the rage had ebbed somewhat, and fear was in the ascendancy. Matt paused at reception to ask the doorman, "Joe, tell me, have you seen a cripple hanging around here recently? Tall guy with a cane-"

"I seen him," Joe said immediately. "Couple days ago. He was loitering outside in a car, I didn't think nuthin' of it. Then I caught him later inside, sneaking around the third floor. Claimed he was looking for a friend. I threw him out, of course. Don't know how he slipped past me."

"Thanks." Matt headed on inside, worry churning at his innards. He lived on the third floor. Was there any chance House had gotten into his apartment? Suddenly Matt remembered he'd been surprised, two days ago, when he'd gotten home from work and found the place tidier than he'd left it. He'd figured Chris had been there, but maybe not...

He spent a sleepless night trying to figure out what had happened.

* * *

He was at work the next day when Chris showed up at one o'clock, Matt's usual lunch break time. Chris went straight to his boat and sat out on the deck; Matt took a deep breath and went to join him.

Close up, Chris's face was stiff and remote; Matt realized straight off that he'd lost him. He sat down anyway, hoping they could talk it out, maybe he could salvage things-

"House left me a dossier," Chris said, and patted a small stack of papers sitting on a table by his elbow. "He suggested I call some of your exes and left me their numbers. So that's what I've been doing this morning."

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_ Matt clutched the arms of his chair, head swimming with the implications. So that was what House had been poking around for in his apartment.

"First I spoke to Gus, your guy in Maine," Chris continued, and Matt put a hand over his eyes. "He was happy to talk to me. Told me you met when you fixed his boat, you went out for nearly three years, he thought you were probably cheating on him but was willing to turn a blind eye, 'cause he was a lot older than you and figured he was lucky to have you. Until he overheard you on the phone one day, telling your own toyboy what an absolute sucker Gullible Gus was, and how you would be in line to inherit all his money."

"That... was a long time ago." Matt desperately sought mitigation. "He was my first real boyfriend. I was young and stupid."

"Very stupid." Chris wasn't giving him an inch. "Then I called Hal, your Rhode Island honey. He didn't want to talk to me at all, just said you were a bastard, and because of you, he had to sell his yacht and a friend of his had spent a year in therapy. Mysterious, eh?"

"Yeah," Matt said feebly. Suddenly he was ultra-aware of the cabin below them, a yawning Raul-shaped chasm about to suck him in. "I had a bit of a misunderstanding with the friend, on the yacht."

"House left me a hospital report on this friend." Chris flicked through papers with one hand. "He turned up at an ER covered in bruises and with anal tears. Doctors suspected assault or even rape, but the guy wouldn't say a thing."

How the fuck had House gotten hold of that? Damn doctors, looking out for each other!

"And finally, Colin from Connecticut. You've been working your way down the eastern seaboard, haven't you?" A touch of wry humor eased Chris's tone momentarily. "He didn't want to talk at first, but when I opened up a bit about myself, told him we'd been going out a while and I was thinking of making a real commitment with you like maybe joint title, even civil union, he blew a gasket and said not to touch you with a ten foot pole."

"You shouldn't believe a word he said," Matt spoke desperately. "Our break-up was really bad, he hated me at the end-"

"He certainly does," Chris cut in. "He told me he was in love and he thought you were too. You were together several years, he gave you lots of money and he put you in his will. A few weeks after he did that, you were out sailing when you pushed him overboard, and you were going to leave him there."

"No, I wasn't," Matt gabbled furiously. "He's paranoid-he's making it up-it was a joke-I was going to go back-"

"He sounds completely sane to me, and he's sure you were going to leave him to drown. If another boat hadn't shown up at the right moment, he would have." Chris's voice was as stark as Matt had ever heard it. "He didn't want to press any charges, didn't think he could get them to stick, but he stripped you of everything you had that he owned and ran you out of town. Last he heard, you were heading toward New Jersey in an old beat-up car, on the lookout for another mark."

Matt was silent.

"We're over," Chris said, unnecessarily. "I called the management company of your apartment building just now, gave them a month's notice. You've got that long to find somewhere else and move out. Or take over the rent yourself."

Matt sighed, knowing that Chris knew perfectly well he couldn't afford that; it was an eviction.

"But you can keep the Ferrari," Chris went on. He picked up a thin file from the stack on the the table, and tossed it onto Matt's lap.

Matt picked it up cautiously and leafed through the contents. Pink slip, insurance documentation, service record. Fuck. This was a pay-off. Generous enough so he wasn't going to start arguing at this point, or Chris might change his mind. "Uh. Thank you."

"Keep it, or sell it if you prefer, you should get enough to tide you over for a while." Chris was gruff. "See you around."

And despite that positive sounding farewell, Matt knew full well he would never see Chris again. He could not thrive in the scene around here, not with Chris owning half the bars and restaurants, Chris's friends everywhere. No more privileged access, on the contrary now an outcast. He could not carry on working in this marina with Chris (and Linus, and Raul) as customers.

No, he had to move on; he would claim itchy feet and move south, as he had done before. He would get another job; the marina would give him a good reference. He was a hard worker and always got good job references. And he would meet someone else.

* * *

Suddenly, Chris was alone again. He searched his soul for the sorrow and loneliness that had dominated his life before, but found it curiously absent. Instead he felt... relief. House had done him a favor.

There was a hole in his life, though. All the time he'd spent with Matt; hanging out, eating, drinking, sleeping... suddenly, nothing. He found himself wandering around at a loss. Chris realized with a sense of detachment that he was _bored_. Linus and Raul would not be back for a couple of months yet. And being a practical kind of guy, he decided on a practical solution to fill his time.

He called his club manager Ferdinand to ask, "Have you filled that vacant afternoon bar shift yet?"

"Not yet." Ferdinand sounded surprised. "Why, have you got someone in mind?"

"Yeah. Me." Chris enjoyed the incredulity he could hear in the intake of breath down the line. "I've got extensive experience working as a bartender. I'll be there tomorrow at three sharp. And don't worry, I won't expect to draw a salary."

Much later, Chris thought that the whole Matt episode had at least done him one favor; it had sent him back to his roots, to tend the downstairs bar at the club.

And a few weeks later, in walked Brian.

END

* * *

A/N: Chris and Brian part 1: A Man Walks into a Bar runs straight on from here. See profile for links to the Chris 'verse elsewhere.

Matt's downfall is also told in Enough of the Deja Vu: Part 3 Return.

Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21: Ziggy part 1 of 3

**Title**: International Man of Mystery: Part 1 of 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Ziggy/Finn, Chris/Edward, Linus  
**Beta**: still indebted to srsly_yes  
**A/N:** Parallels Edward's Experiment**  
**

**Summary**: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and Finn, the love of his life. Part 1: How they met.  
**Excerpt**: _"Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently._

**International Man of Mystery Part 1 of 3**

Ziggy tucked his poker winnings away in an inside pocket, said goodnight to his fellow players, and glanced around the bar. No sign of Linus, but Chris was hunched in a corner with a glass of whiskey and a book. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to be disturbed, but Ziggy strolled up anyway.

"Hey, Chris. Linus around?"

"Downstairs." Chris gestured with the book. "He saw a pretty new piece of ass, guy called Nico, and made a beeline. Not having much luck, last I saw."

"I'll go see how he's doing." Ziggy was amused. "Where's Edward?"

It was an innocent question but Chris dropped his eyes and folded his arms as he muttered, "He's gone to Florida for a while, designing a conservatory for his parents."

"Oh." Ziggy was surprised; he'd seen Edward here at the club only a week ago, and hadn't heard that planned. "Will he be away long?"

"Naw," Chris said, with such false bravado that Ziggy backed off immediately and headed down the stairs. A touchy subject, clearly.

In the large downstairs bar, Linus was sitting a couple of feet from a group of men, apparently attempting to engage one of them (young, dark-haired, slightly exotic good looks) in conversation. Nico, Ziggy assumed.

"Hey," Ziggy said to Linus, taking the neighboring seat.

"Ziggy, how wonderful to see you," Linus hailed him, and waved to the bartender. "A beer for my good friend here, and another one for me too."

"What's up with Edward?" Ziggy muttered in Linus's ear.

"Chris screwed around and screwed up," Linus muttered back. "Edward went off on a break. I talked to Julio on the phone the other day, our darling Edward is quite the talk of the town in South Beach."

"Ah." Ziggy nodded.

"I'm almost tempted to fly down myself and see, just for fun, but Chris really needs to get his act together," Linus added as the drinks arrived.

"Linus, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" a new voice chimed in, high-pitched and eager. Ziggy turned his head; it was the young man who was the object of Linus's attempted affections. He had switched seats to join them.

"Nico, this is Ziggy, also known as Detective Bowie, one of my dearest friends." Linus intoned. "Ziggy, this is Nico, who's staying with friends here in New Jersey on vacation for a while."

"Glad to meet you, Ziggy, I was admiring your eyes," Nico dived straight in. "I've never seen such beautiful eyes before!"

Ziggy blinked, pleased. Some people found his odd eyes, one dark brown and one hazel, positively weird. It was good to get the opposite reaction once in a while. "Thanks."

"And you're a cop?" Nico asked, wide-eyed as he flicked back his hair. "That's why you're so buff, I guess you have to keep fit. I bet you've got a six-pack under that shirt. D'you have handcuffs?"

"I do." Ziggy was amused, but careful to keep his voice and body language neutral.

"Ooh, then arrest me, Officer." Nico held out his wrists. "And I'm up for it if you want to search me. Anal cavity probe, whatever."

"Wasting your time, hon," Linus put in. "My friend here is immune to such come-ons."

Nico stuck his lower lip out. "You're just jealous."

"Maybe, but I'm not kidding. Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently. He found the cop-kink come-on was an occupational hazard at the club and in bars. He wasn't immune, but he rarely succumbed.

"Sorry," Ziggy said kindly to Nico. "I'm not your man. Not tonight."

Nico's head drooped forlornly.

Linus cut in brightly, "I'm sure I have cuffs somewhere at home, if you want-"

"Nico's after the real deal, not the pink furry type." Ziggy couldn't help but tease.

Linus pretended to glower. "Don't cock-block me if you're not interested!"

That made everyone laugh. Nico beamed and turned his attention to Linus, and Ziggy watched Linus be led astray by his dick for the umpteenth time with detached amusement.

Ziggy had learned his lesson way back in the day as a twenty-one year old rookie cop, when he'd had to arrest a high-as-a-kite teen from whom he'd enjoyed a blow job two nights before. The teen had recognized him immediately, blabbed it all over the jail cell, and word had spread through the station and beyond._ Never again_.

No sexual dalliances with anyone locally; that was his rule. The danger of them overlapping with his professional life was too great. It was hard enough being an out gay cop as it was, with attitudes in the squad room ranging from cautiously antagonistic to downright hostile; giving his less sympathetic colleagues ammo like that was just stupid.

He reflected wryly on this rule a few days later, when he met Finn.

* * *

It was at a sucky breakfast meeting at the police station. The station lieutenant had summoned everyone to _Meet Your Friendly Neighborhood Feds._Cops finishing the night shift were prevailed on to stay around a few minutes, cops coming on the day shift hauled themselves in early, bribed with strong coffee and sweet pastries. Everyone lunged for the donuts, the latecomers having to settle for croissants, and the unlucky last person in was left with the bran muffin.

They all sat around a table, bleary eyed from lack of sleep or too-recent sleep, while two wide-awake and sharp-eyed federal agents were introduced.

"This is Special Agent Hilary Benitez and Special Agent Fintan Massey," the lieutenant said.

"Good morning," said Benitez.

"Hey," said Massey.

Ziggy observed that the majority of his (straight, male) fellow officers fastened their eyes on Benitez's (considerable) chest through the ensuing discussion.

"So myself and Agent Massey have just been assigned to the New Jersey office, we're based in Newark but we're travelling around to visit all the local police departments, as we really want good working relationships with local law enforcement," Benitez began. She did most of the talking; she clearly wore the trousers.

Ziggy ate a jelly donut and listened with half a cynical ear while surreptitiously checking out her companion. Tall, tanned, and brown-eyed, smiling and apparently amiable, Fintan Massey was easy on the eye. He had dark curly hair with a carefully trimmed circle beard of light stubble (Ziggy had always had a slight weakness for facial hair), and was very neatly turned out in a perfectly ironed shirt and tie.

The cops all introduced themselves and there was some chitchat about possible overlaps and synergy. But Ziggy knew that everyone around the table knew this was a complete waste of time. The feds would do whatever they wanted, because they always did. Anyway, Newark was fucking miles away from their bit of ocean territory, and relevant to almost nothing they did.

Benitez and Massey soon departed, leaving the cops eating up the remaining pastries.

"Whaddya make of the Fed with...?" was the first question posed by one of Ziggy's coarser colleagues, miming large breasts with a croissant in each hand.

Benitez and Massey would subsequently be christened in squad room parlance as _The Fed With _(tits) and _The Fed Without_(likewise).

"She can have a good working relationship with me anytime," a second cop opined.

"Think her partner's boning her?" queried the first.

"If not, he wants to," someone else chipped in.

"Who wouldn't?" leered another. Ziggy was used to this kind of talk and kept diplomatically silent.

"His shirt was ironed, he's probably married," one of the (straight) female cops put in.

"No wedding ring, though," said another.

Ziggy hadn't thought to look for a wedding ring but found himself vaguely interested in the observation. He licked his fingers thoughtfully and went to do some work.

* * *

On his way home that evening, Ziggy decided to swing by Chris's roadside bar for a beer. He parked in the lot and headed inside by way of the back of the building, as he wanted to go to the bathroom first which was around the back.

He entered the bar through the back door a few minutes later, and stopped dead. A few feet in front of him, a man sat at the bar with his back toward Ziggy. The guy was wearing a more casual shirt and jacket than hat morning, but still immaculately tailored. Even from the back of his head, Ziggy recognized him; it was the Fed Without. Fintan Massey.

Massey's choice of seat was that of a law enforcer; sit where you could see everyone in the whole room. But not being a local, he clearly didn't know there was a back entrance behind him. It was half-hidden behind a pillar, newbies didn't tend to spot it until they were directed toward the bathroom.

Amused, Ziggy stepped up behind him and spoke softly in his ear. "Evening, Agent Massey."

Fintan Massey jumped two feet in the air and wheeled around to face Ziggy with startled eyes. "Uh-uh-" Recognition dawned. "You're one of the local cops." Beat. "Odd eyes-Detective Bowie?"

The bartender was looking at Ziggy from down the other end of the bar, silently asking, _trouble?_ Ziggy shook his head slightly; _no trouble_. He was impressed by Agent Massey's recall, Ziggy had been only one of quite a number of cops around the table. On the other hand, the odd eyes did tend to stick in people's memories.

"Call me Ziggy." Even a federal agent could call him Ziggy. Certainly a handsome one who chose to drink in gay bars.

"Call me Finn." Fintan Massey was blushing a becoming shade of pink behind his mustache. Ziggy appreciated a close-up view; a carefully manicured mustache, it thinned out at the sides down to a shadow of a beard.

The bartender drifted up. "Your usual, Ziggy?"

"Thanks, Brandon." Ziggy watched Finn take in that Ziggy was sufficiently regular to have a usual, and to know the bartender.

"I'll have another of these, please." Finn gestured at his bottle of Bud and flipped bills across the counter.

As he produced the drinks Brandon raised his eyebrows at Ziggy, who shook his head ever so slightly to indicate no, he wasn't putting Finn's drinks on his tab. Brandon picked up the money and lingered for a few seconds, but presumably discerning that neither of the men were going to strike up a conversation while he was standing there, drifted off down the bar.

Alone, Finn spoke first. "Are you... working right now, Ziggy?"

Ziggy would not have ordered a drink if on duty, and knew Finn would have known that too. He deduced that Finn wanted to find out if he was gay, but was afraid of offending him with the direct question in case he wasn't. "No, I'm off duty at the moment. Are _you?"_

He thought it entirely possible that Finn, drinking or not drinking, was staking out the bar for some ghastly federal investigation. If Chris's bar was a hive for money-laundering or terrorist plots, then Ziggy wanted to know. This was his turf, after all.

"No, no," Finn muttered. "I was just...passing, driving along the highway, saw the bar, thought I'd stop for a drink."

That was probably untrue. If there was no federal business, it was much more likely Finn had been looking up gay bars in the area he was visiting. And anyway, nobody could fail to see this was a gay bar within two seconds of stepping inside, so even if he hadn't known beforehand it had not put him off staying for a drink.

Ergo, the curly-haired mustached Fed went for men. Ziggy found himself obscurely pleased. He rarely met fellow gay law enforcement officers.

"You come here often?" Finn asked, smiling as he uttered the cliched phrase.

Ziggy smiled back. "Sometimes. I know the owner, he owns a few bars and restaurants around here. And a club where I go to play poker. You play?"

"Not very well. I'm not a great one for going out to bars, either." Finn looked down at the counter.

"So what do you do in your spare time, Finn?" Ziggy went for friendly with a touch of flirtatiousness.

"I like sports. Walking, running, canoeing, skiing..."

"Golf?" Golf was Ziggy's great passion. He planned vacations around golf courses. His regular Monday date with Linus to play was the highlight of his week.

"Yeah, golf is fun." Finn became visibly more animated. They managed a golfing conversation for a while, talking about comparative handicaps and the pros and cons of different courses. It transpired that Finn had been based in Massachusetts before his recent transfer to New Jersey, where Ziggy had played a couple of times on vacation. Ziggy expounded to Finn about the virtues and vices of various Jersey courses.

It was nice. Eventually Finn finished his second beer and looked at his watch. "Um, I'm outta here."

"It's not that late," Ziggy pointed out. "Want another?"

"Naw, thanks. Look, I'm staying in the motel next door," Finn said, twisting a cardboard coaster into shreds. "The unit on the far end."

This was a come-on. Ziggy knew the motel layout, nodded, but kept his expression neutral.

"Number twenty, I think. It's got a bright red SUV parked outside, not mine," Finn added, gabbling a bit now, covering embarrassment. "It got dumped and the motel managers haven't had it towed yet." He slid off the bar stool. "Night."

"Night," Ziggy echoed, and watched Finn's ass as he made his way out of the bar.

Should he follow? Ziggy took his time finishing his own beer, then ordered a whiskey, not hurrying his decision.

Ziggy had never had a particularly high sex drive, but when he wanted to hook up with someone (and sometimes the urge did take him), he did it away from his own turf. _Never_in the jurisdiction of his own police department. He took short trips out of state and long vacations in far-flung places. No danger of running into extended family members (and Ziggy came from a large family), no (nosy) work colleagues, none of his (extensive) golfing or poker circles.

Bedding a Fed? Obviously not a good idea. But... this was a fed buried so deep in the closet that he couldn't even bear to admit he'd come here to score. Fintan Massey was not going to spread this story anywhere anytime soon.

It had been a while since Ziggy had gotten some.

* * *

When Ziggy slid off the stool and headed for the door, he caught a knowing look from Brandon and mentally sighed. Finn might have thought he'd been oh-so-subtle leaving on his own, but they hadn't gotten past the observant bartender. This gossip would get to Chris within twenty-four hours (Brandon had a terrible crush on his boss; this was perhaps the worst kept secret in the local gayborhood, everyone knew except Chris himself) and therefore with Linus within forty-eight.

He left by the back entrance via the bathroom, thinking it prudent to visit the condom vending machine. He wasn't in the habit of carrying these things around with him, like Linus.

Over at the motel, he found the unit on the far end did indeed have a hideous red SUV parked outside. A discreet tan sedan rested nearby; Finn's car, Ziggy surmised. He tapped at the door, realizing as he did so that it was now quite late, and dark, maybe Finn had given up on him by this time and gone to bed...

But after a moment there came the sound of a lock turning, then the door swung open. Ziggy stepped inside, squinting into semi-darkness; and there was Finn, sleepy-eyed and rumple-haired, bare-chested and quite possibly the Hottest. Thing. Ever.

"I thought you weren't coming," Finn murmured, pushing the door closed.

"Sorry," Ziggy said inadequately. As the last crack of light vanished, Ziggy was temporarily blinded just as juicy lips fastened on his own, sending sharp thrills down nerve endings to tingle his spine. He felt Finn's mustache bristle against his face, and nuzzled back, relishing the tiny spikes of hair prickling his skin.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Finn muttered, stepping backward to the bed. Ziggy blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness; Finn was wearing only boxer shorts, a snug fit showing off a sizable bulge.

"We can fix that." Ziggy spent some time taking off his clothes, placing his shoulder holster with his gun carefully over the back of a chair, while Finn sprawled on the bed and watched.

As Ziggy approached the bed, Finn sat up and put his feet on the floor. He reached out to place a hand on Ziggy's hip, and pulled Ziggy toward him, taking him fully in his mouth.

_Whoa and wow and fuck_. It had been way too long. Ziggy groped for the memory of the last blow-job he'd had, on vacation in California the previous year, in a hotel room rather nicer than this one. This... was better. Finn Massey might be shy and closeted, but he'd learned enough along the way to know how to blow.

Ziggy let himself be taken to the brink before stepping back and dropping to his knees to reciprocate. Finn moaned, _"Yeah, Ziggy, oh, yeah"_clasping at Ziggy's head, groping at his hair, then gasped sharply and pulled back just in time, shooting over Ziggy's shoulder.

"Huh, sorry," Finn gasped. "Closer than I thought. Fucking amazing."

Ziggy wondered if maybe it had been even longer since Finn had sex than he had. He got to his feet, flexing aching knees, and reaching for his own hard-on, ready to finish himself off.

"If you like to top, you can do me," Finn said awkwardly, and Ziggy was surprised but pleased. He was versatile and willing to do either for the right man.

It did sound appealing, actually. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, do it." Finn breathed deeply.

Ziggy took his time getting ready, getting Finn ready with the help of some hand lotion, thinking it might be really a while since Agent Fintan Massey had done this. Once he had Finn appropriately slippery and relaxed and compliant on his back, legs splayed, Ziggy sheathed up and went in.

_Oh my God I can happy die right now I've experienced heaven_. Being inside Finn was just magic; suspended in a trembling, ecstatic trance-like state, Finn tight and quivering beneath him. The two of them remained locked in a heaving thrusting mass until Ziggy climaxed with a strangled cry, and Finn threw his arms up to embrace him as he collapsed.

After a few minutes, Ziggy pulled out as gently as he could and shifted sidewards onto the bed beside Finn. The world faded from Technicolor back to dim shades of darkness.

* * *

Ziggy woke from dreamless sleep to find Finn sprawled on the bed beside him, snoring softly. He was really damn good-looking, Ziggy realized; all the more so when naked with mussed-up hair.

It was three AM. Ziggy got up to get a glass of water, moving quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping companion.

He spotted a folded sheet of paper stuck under the motel room door. He picked it up, and saw it was addressed to _Mr Stapleton_.

Wrong room, Ziggy thought, as the piece of paper fell open in his hand. It was a note from the motel clerk saying the rogue red SUV had been towed, so if he wanted to move his car into the space outside, that would be fine.

Right room. Wrong name? Suddenly Ziggy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around the room, then headed toward the closet, where Finn had hung up all his clothes neatly. In the inside jacket pocket was a wallet; a wad of cash, no credit cards (odd), and a driver's license. With Finn's picture, but someone else's name. _Robert Stapleton_.

What the fuck was going on?

_Who had he just slept with?_

Ziggy groped for his own clothes which were stacked on a chair. He pulled on his pants and felt less vulnerable immediately. He then fished his gun out of the shoulder holster, which was looped around the chair back. The cold metal in his hand made his fear ebb away, to be replaced by anger. There was deception going on here somewhere, and he didn't like it one little bit.

He snapped the bedside light on and shook Finn awake. As Finn squinted and muttered "Uh?", rubbing his eyes, Ziggy sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"What the _fuck?"_Finn's voice rose to a shriek as he saw Ziggy pointing the gun in Finn's direction.

"Mr Robert Stapleton, or should I say Agent Fintan Massey?" Ziggy demanded.

"What! Oh! Fuck!" Finn rubbed a hand across his face. "Put the gun down! I'm Finn Massey, I'm a federal agent, you _know_that!"

Rationality seeped back into Ziggy's seething soul; he did know that. This guy had been introduced by the chief of police as a federal agent, they'd sat and talked about New Jersey crime, that was all true.

"Where's your badge?" Ziggy thought to query.

"Locked in the briefcase under the bed. With _my_gun and stuff. Take a look if you don't believe me."

But Ziggy did believe it, and put his own gun back in the shoulder holster. It had been an overreaction. He was still angry, though. "What's this Robert Stapleton shit about?"

Finn flushed pink and looked down at the bedcovers. "I'm... undercover."

Ziggy was indignant at the idea that a federal investigation might be going on under his nose after all. "You said you were off duty."

"I am." Finn shifted in the bed. "I'm... personally undercover. Robert Stapleton is my alter ego."

Ziggy digested this. "You go out to get laid under another name?"

"Why not?" Finn said, in a reasoned tone. "Half the names people give out in bars are fake."

"Maybe, but not everyone has a driving license to back their story up," Ziggy retorted.

"It's from an old investigation, when I really was undercover," Finn admitted. "They forgot to ask for the ID back, so I never gave it them. Thought it might be useful."

A revolting thought occurred to Ziggy. "Don't tell me you go and give rentboys your fake name, then whip out your badge when they're about to put your dick in their mouth and tell them they're giving you a freebie tonight." Ziggy had once had a dirtball colleague in Vice who had been in the habit of doing exactly that, with hookers. Bastard.

"Christ, no!" Finn's face screwed up into contortions. "Listen, I go to bars once in a blue moon! I live like a monk, I watch TV every night and eat TV dinners. When I can't stand it anymore I jack off over porn, which I then hide at the back of my closet in case someone from work comes around." Beat. "And just sometimes, if I'm a long way from home, maybe I'll dig out my Robert Stapleton ID and see if I can get laid. I know, it's sad."

It _was_sad. Although Ziggy didn't relate to much of Finn's description, he felt a small twinge of empathy at the last part; he also waited until he was a long way from home before he ever tried to get laid.

So, Fintan Massey was a lonely closeted fuckup. Damn shame. Ziggy swallowed regrets, and stood up to go. "Nice getting to know you, Agent Massey. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You're leaving?" Finn's face arched with dismay.

"I don't like people lying to me," Ziggy said starkly.

"But I didn't lie to you," Finn burst out. "I didn't give you my fake name."

"You couldn't," Ziggy pointed out.

"Thing is, actually, you're the first person I ever slept with where I really could be myself," Finn said in a whisper. "First person I've ever even _met_where I could really be myself."

And that made Ziggy pause. Because that really was something. "You're not out. Nobody knows?"

"Nope."

Please. The guy had hand lotion on his nightstand and ironed his shirts. "What about your partner, Benitez?"

"She suspects, 'cause I've worked with her two years and never tried to grab her ass." Finn shrugged. "She once said I must be either gay or a gentleman. I said the two weren't mutually exclusive. She hasn't asked since."

Benitez knew, Ziggy surmised, but wasn't the type to pry. "Your family?"

"Blissful ignorance," Finn said in a tone of the utmost gloom. "Age thirty-five and Mom and Dad still think I haven't met the right girl yet."

Ziggy ruminated on that for a minute.

"What do you want from me?" he said at last.

Finn paused in turn, before saying simply, "I guess I was hoping I could keep being myself with you."

"I can't. I-" Ziggy struggled mentally with his rules. They could be broken, like any rules. "Look, I can't go out with a Fed! I'm a cop. Cops and Feds, we don't mix, do we? What if we had to work together? What if you had a case in my area? If my colleagues found out-"

"Then we have something in common," Finn pounced. "Neither of us want to be found out. Look, we can make this work. Please. I really want to."

He was still naked, his hair was still mussed, and his stubble shaded his cheekbones and jawline in a most attractive way.

Ziggy was to remember that image often in future, when wondering how on earth he had ended up in a relationship with Finn Massey.

END OF PART 1. TBC.

Next part: Finn evades all Ziggy's friends except Edward.


	22. Chapter 22: Ziggy part 2 of 3

**A/N:** Please note that some of the chapters in this fic feature House & Wilson, but this particular one doesn't.

* * *

**Title**: International Man of Mystery Part 2 of 3  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Ziggy/Finn, Chris/Edward, Linus  
**Beta**: thanks eternal to srsly_yes  
**A/N:**This story parallels Blast from the Past from Chris & Edward's story.

**Summary**: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 2: Finn's encounters with Edward.  
**Excerpt**: _Finn was sprawled on the sand looking very comfortably rugged, his hair windswept in the ocean breeze, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other._

**International Man of Mystery Part 2 of 3**

The dull red sun was low in the sky as Ziggy pulled his car into his favored spot in the hotel parking lot, glancing up at the ponderous white building and trying to spot Finn at the familiar fifth floor window. Not seeing anything, he finished parking and reached for his phone to check for a text. A new one was there, reading simply _Room 404_. Finn clearly hadn't been able to get their preferred top floor corner room this week; never mind.

He headed inside, smiling vaguely in the direction of the reception desk and walking straight to the elevator, dragging his small wheeled case behind him.

"Nice weather for it," a suited man also waiting for the elevator opined. He meant golf, the main reason to stay at this country house hotel. A trim 18 hole course lurked out back.

"Yeah," Ziggy agreed politely, not wanting to get into conversation.

He found the room on the fourth floor and tapped at the door; it opened immediately. In this situation, Ziggy never failed to remember their first encounter, the motel room door opening with the sleepy-eyed Finn behind it.

They'd traded up to nicer hotels since then...

He stepped inside and as the door closed behind him, Finn pulled him in for a kiss.

"Hey," Finn said a moment later. His eyes weren't sleepy this time, but his voice was husky. "No traffic? You made good time."

"Yeah." Ziggy nuzzled Finn's cheek, reveling in the stubbly bristles brushing his lips. "Time before dinner for-?"

"Oh yeah."

And at the prospect of good food, decent beer, a testing game of golf and (of course) sheer naked pleasure between the sheets over the next two days, Ziggy felt suddenly truly happy.

* * *

After a couple of false starts, Ziggy and Finn had found a routine that worked. They met every two to three weeks, for two or three days. Between their liaisons, they both worked a lot of shifts so as to be fairly sure they could escape for a short break without interruption from their jobs. They'd been in this pattern for six months now, and it was working out fine.

And they had found a regular place to go; the perfect country house hotel, over the state border in Pennsylvania, a couple of hours drive away for them both. The other clientele were businessmen there for the golf and married businessmen meeting their mistresses; nobody was inclined to pry too much into other guests. The hotel had an excellent restaurant and bar, and the beds were infinitely more comfortable than the motel room mattress they'd gotten together on.

Ziggy had visited Finn at his home in Newark once, but Finn had been so twitchy and nervous about them being seen together, they hadn't repeated it. Finn had also visited Ziggy's house a couple of times, but avoided meeting anyone Ziggy knew.

Linus had been inquisitive of course, the gossip grapevine in operation just as Ziggy had expected. He'd met Linus for their regular golf match not long after he'd gotten together with Finn.

"So Ziggy, I hear you got lucky last week," Linus said, plucking a club from his golf bag. "I want names, I want places, I want dates."

"Don't believe everything you hear," Ziggy parried, lining up a shot.

"But I have it on the most excellent authority!" Linus protested. "Chris says Brandon saw you leave the bar with this very handsome guy-"

Ziggy hit the ball high, and squinted after it. "Brandon's got an overactive imagination."

"And," Linus went on in a tone of finality as he put his own ball on the tee, "When he shut up the bar and left at two o'clock in the morning, your car was still in the lot. Ergo, you went back to the motel with him."

Jesus, the rumor mill was even more effective than he'd thought. "I deny everything."

"You can deny it all you want, I _know_you went off with him, whoever he was, and I will fill in the gap with my own imagination," Linus concluded with a swing.

"You imagine all you like." Ziggy shaded his eyes to peer after the ball.

* * *

Linus got bored and stopped prodding eventually, and over the next few months, Ziggy found happiness with Finn.

Meanwhile, Nico went home to Belgium, leaving Linus temporarily desolate, but Chris and Edward made up in Florida and Edward came home, which was good news. Even better news followed Edward's return; Chris gave him joint title to their house. This sign of commitment both surprised and amused Ziggy; the pre-Edward commitment-phobe Chris would have been the last person to have done such a thing.

Ziggy and Linus witnessed signatures on deeds and Ziggy suggested they throw a party to celebrate, a suggestion which Linus seized with great enthusiasm. However when Chris and Edward set their party date, Ziggy was dismayed to find it clashed with a weekend scheduled to be spent with Finn.

Unwilling to lose that time, he suggested to Finn that he come down to the Jersey coast and stay at his house.

"I have to go to a party," Ziggy explained. "It's a celebration. Two friends of mine, Chris and Edward, just made a commitment. Joint title to their house. I witnessed the paperwork."

"Then you have to go," Finn said gruffly. "I'll come stay at your place. We can hang out before and after."

"You could come to the party," Ziggy pressed his luck.

"No, no," Finn said hastily. "You go, I'll watch TV or go for a drive or something."

Ziggy was reluctant to let his precious time with Finn be wasted, and when the evening came, he suggested it again.

"Come with me, you don't have to meet anyone. Chris and Edward live right on the coast with a private strip of beach. You could sit out on the sand while I go mingle. I promise to bring you party food."

Finn looked out of the window at the still, warm night. "Maybe that would be OK. Hey, I can be your designated driver."

They drove to Chris and Edward's house, which was teeming with friendly people, food, drink and loud music. Ziggy left Finn sprawled discreetly at the far end of the beach with a single bottle of beer and a promise of food to come, while he went into the house to say hello to his friends.

"Ziggy, hey, glad you could make it," Chris hailed him as he walked inside.

"Congratulations, again." Ziggy handed over beer, and was swept into a melee of friends and acquaintances. He circulated a little, making friendly conversation. Although some people must have seen him arrive with Finn, nobody quite dared ask who his friend down the other end of the beach was.

One person whom Ziggy knew wouldn't hesitate to poke his nose in was Linus, but fortunately Linus had his own preoccupation and hadn't noticed. A visitor was in town, and Linus only had eyes for him.

"Hey, Ravi, long time no see." Ziggy greeted him with an air-hug. Ziggy was always torn between liking Ravi as a person while disapproving of what he did (porn movies, escort work, law-breaking along the way no doubt).

"Officer Bowie, the pleasure is all mine," Ravi's perfect white teeth arched into a beautiful, genuine smile. "I do hope Linus has been behaving himself recently."

"Nothing to get arrested for," Ziggy joked.

"We'll have to see what we can do about that," Ravi joked back.

Whatever Ravi's flaws, Ziggy reflected inwardly, at least he wasn't potentially underage. Linus's predilection for borderline legal young men kept Ziggy awake worrying at night sometimes.

"Ravi hasn't met Edward before. I'm hoping they'll get on well," Linus remarked, and Ziggy could practically see drool forming. Ziggy had no particular objection to Linus's liberal attitude to partner-sharing, but preferred not to be around when it happened, and he ducked out of the house soon afterwards.

He piled barbecue meat on a paper plate and walked it down the beach back to Finn. Finn was sprawled on the sand looking very comfortably rugged, his hair windswept in the ocean breeze, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other.

"Thanks," he said, putting the beer down to pick up a chicken drumstick. "I was hoping you'd bring some of these. I can smell 'em from here, my mouth was watering."

Ziggy sat down next to Finn and they munched contentedly together for a few minutes until a young man with glasses and floppy hair nibbling a corn on the cob came tramping down the shore toward them. Ziggy felt Finn go tense, and reached out to pat his arm reassuringly.

"Hey, Edward," Ziggy greeted the newcomer easily. "This is a friend of mine, Fi-"

"Robert Stapleton," Finn interrupted seamlessly, and Ziggy barely stifled a choke. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." Edward held out the hand not holding the corn on the cob, and they shook vigorously, Edward's glasses slipping down his nose as they did so. "Sorry to bother you, I can see you don't want to be disturbed. I just wanted to say hello and tell you that any friend of Ziggy's is welcome here."

"Thanks," Finn said, a trifle sheepishly. "And congratulations on the house thing."

They chatted for a few minutes, Edward so endearingly enthusiastic and blissfully happy that Ziggy could only smile.

"Chris is looking for me," Edward said suddenly, waving at a tall, fair-haired man in the distance. "I should go, nice to meet you, Robert. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

Ziggy and Finn sat and watched Edward slipping and sliding through sand as he made his way back to the house.

"He's adorable," Finn said, rolling his beer bottle between his palms.

"Isn't he." Ziggy spotted an opportunity to make a point. "He didn't find coming out easy, you know. He even got married along the way-still is married, in fact. His wife won't give him a divorce."

"You're kidding."

"No." Ziggy explained a little about Edward's conservative family background. Finn leaned forward in concentration as he listened. Ziggy held one thing back; Linus had once told him that Edward had been in an abusive relationship with a guy in college, and gotten married pretty much on the rebound. Ziggy was pretty sure that Linus shouldn't have told him and decided not to spread that any further.

"Y'know, I was engaged to be married once," Finn said in a matter-of-fact tone at the end, and Ziggy felt his jaw drop.

"Really?"

"Way back in college." Finn put a hand up to rub his eyes. "When I went to college I wanted to be like everyone else. It's not something I'm proud of."

"What happened?" Ziggy couldn't help but ask.

"We met during freshman week. She liked me for some reason. I was in pretty serious denial and just wanting to fit in so I went along with it. Our sex life was terrible to non-existent and she blamed herself instead of me, cowardly fucker that I am, I let her think that." Finn buried his face in his hands. "And then somehow I blurted out a proposal, thinking that might solve everything. Thank goodness she broke it off before we actually got hitched, 'cause I didn't have the guts to."

"Fuck." Ziggy tried to imagine being in such a situation, but couldn't.

"You've always been out, right?" Finn asked, a trifle unexpectedly. Ziggy nodded. "When did you tell your Mom and Dad?"

"I hardly even remember it," Ziggy said honestly. "I was nine years old, Mom said, when I told her solemnly in the kitchen one day that when I grew up, I didn't want to marry a girl, I wanted to marry a boy. Bless her, she told me to be careful who else I said that to, and that was that. Sometimes she asked if I'd changed my mind, but I never did."

"But isn't your family..." Finn twisted the empty paper plate between his fingers. "Conservative types? Your dad-small town sheriff in rocky Montana, right?"

"Yeah. I stick out like a sore thumb when I visit. I'm known as the pink sheep of the family." This was an old family joke that Ziggy rattled out cheerfully. "I had two brothers and two sisters who were always gonna fulfil the norm and give Mom and Dad all the grandchildren they could ever want. They could afford to indulge one queer middle child in his strange lifestyle choice. I always wanted to be a cop, which they approved of, and I could look after myself at school, so they never worried that much about me."

"Huh." Finn pondered that.

"I was lucky," Ziggy added, thinking he had never realized how lucky.

They sat in silence for a while, until Finn said apropos of nothing, "I wish I could apologize to her."

The college fiancée, Ziggy presumed. "Maybe you could."

"But I couldn't explain why," Finn said sadly.

_Unless you came out,_Ziggy silently added, and was sorry that Finn seemed no closer to this point than before. He put an arm around Finn's shoulders rather tentatively; there was nobody nearby, but it was the first sign of affection Ziggy had dared show outside a private room.

To his pleasure, Finn didn't shrug him off, but turned his head toward him, and they kissed. Finn tasted of barbecue sauce and sea salt, a gorgeous combination that had Ziggy practically supping at his lips.

He put a hand up to touch Finn's cheek, luxuriating in the bristles, and before long they were lying on the sand necking like teenagers. Ziggy could feel Finn's hard-on pressing against his thigh, and after a while, dared to unzip Finn's fly and slide his hand inside. Finn sucked his breath in hard, but didn't move to stop him. Ziggy watched Finn's eyes roll madly in their sockets as he pumped, until Finn came into his fist with a groan.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, eyes closed now, breathing heavily. "Did-did anyone see?"

"Nope," Ziggy said briskly, without bothering to look around, and unbuttoned his own fly. "My turn?"

Finn kissed him with barbecue scented salt lips and duly reciprocated.

* * *

About six months later on an ordinary weekday evening, Ziggy was having a moderately successful poker night at the club. No meeting with Finn was scheduled for another week, and Ziggy's mind flitted between his hand and a series of annoying burglaries he couldn't seem to solve.

Then one of the regular players, Dan, appeared and exclaimed as he slid into a seat at the table, "Hey, there was a fight downstairs."

Ziggy inwardly sighed, hoping he wouldn't have to be involved.

"Chris headbutted a guy," Dan continued with excitement. "Someone said he was Edward's ex."

Interesting. The poker table hummed in appreciation, and someone asked, "Edward has an ex? Chris got jealous?"

"Apparently." Dan shrugged off his coat. "Blond guy. Good looking. Broken nose, now. He had two steroid-freak friends with him, Bob threw them all out."

Ziggy relaxed on hearing that Bob had dealt with it. Ziggy had the utmost respect for Chris's club manager, who was an ex-Marine and had also been a cop for a while in a previous existence. Bob had abs of steel and a will of iron.

The poker game continued for a while, amidst idle discussion as to whether anyone had heard about the ex before (nobody had; Ziggy was careful not to mention the violent abusive ex that Linus had once indiscreetly told him about) and whether this was the first time Chris had ever displayed jealousy (consensus was yes, and Ziggy was in full agreement).

Suddenly Bob was there at Ziggy's side.

"Officer Bowie." The choice of name said it all; _emergency_. Ziggy took one glance at Bob's face, dropped his cards on the table, and rose to his feet. Bob headed toward the stairs and down, Ziggy following.

"Chris and Edward left to go home about ten minutes ago. A guy came in just now to say he saw a young man with dark hair and glasses struggling with three other men in the parking lot, outside a white van," Bob explained as they walked.

"Edward." Ziggy sucked in his breath at this description, and the mention of three men. The ex and the steroid-freak friends. He put a hand to his belt for his gun. "And Chris?"

"Not answering his cell," Bob said in a grim tone, as they got to the front door of the club and headed out into the parking lot.

Chris was in the habit of parking out back in a space he could see from his office window, and Bob and Ziggy went in that direction without needing to discuss it. They arrived to find Chris's car was still there. As they paused, hesitating, Ziggy spotted something glittering in the dark on the ground, and stopped to pick it up. A Harley Davidson key chain.

"Fuck," Bob muttered. Chris's keys.

"White van," Ziggy said, gesturing to the far corner of the parking lot.

They broke into a half-run as they approached, and if Ziggy had any doubt at all that his friends were in big trouble, it dissipated when Bob spotted Edward's spectacles on the blacktop a few feet from the van.

"Police! Open this door, _now!" _Ziggy hammered briefly on the van door. Then Bob grabbed the handle and wrenched it with all his might; the handle creaked briefly then gave way, and Bob pulled the door wide open. Ziggy leaped up into the van, gun in hand.

He saw Chris first, lying on the floor with a blurred, unfocused expression, fully clothed but straddled by an absurdly muscle-bound man who was undoubtedly one of the steroid freaks; and a few feet away Edward, white-faced and shaking, on all fours with his jeans pulled down around his knees, looking even more naked without his glasses than he actually was. The second steroid-freak was pinning his wrists, and a blond poster boy was right behind him with his dick in hand.

They'd arrived just in time.

"What the fuck!" one of the steroid freaks shouted.

As Ziggy covered them all with his gun, Bob clambered into the van and smacked the blond poster boy in the face, breaking his nose for the second time that night.

* * *

Ziggy had never witnessed a clearer case of attempted rape in his life, but that didn't actually help when it came to putting the perps away. Investigation of the van led him to a conclusion that he took to his boss, a guy called Larry.

"Inter-state violent crime?" Larry looked dubious as he flicked through paperwork. "I thought we were going to get them on drug charges?"

"There were drugs in the van, but it would be difficult to get them on more than possession. The videos found in the van show actual violent crime. At first I thought it was local, but now it looks like they used the vehicle for a road trip starting in Florida, working their way up the coast," Ziggy explained. "They were heading for New York, where one of them lives. They kept a camera inside the van, above the back doors, to film their fun along the way. The tapes show at about a dozen instances of their M.O., repeatedly drugging young men to get them in the van, and assaulting them. Some very young men, possibly underage, assaulted while unconscious."

His boss drummed his fingers on the desk. "And how many of these crimes happened in New Jersey?"

"Hard to say," Ziggy said honestly. "There's not always anything on the tape to show where they were. The most recent was in Atlantic City; at one point they talk about their bad luck at the roulette wheel there. I talked to the Atlantic City cops but they didn't have any report of the crime. As you know, sir, male rape is often not reported to authorities."

"Yeah" Larry said dryly. "Your vics aren't pressing charges, I hear."

"Yeah." Neither Chris nor Edward had any wish to face Preston in court, a position which Ziggy privately fully supported, although wasn't able to say. "However, there are at least two crimes which happened in Palm Beach, Florida, which the police authorities there do have on their books as unsolved cases." Ziggy had good contacts in Palm Beach.

"That sounds good," Larry agreed.

"Also a case in D.C., for definite. And a possible one in Norfolk, Virginia, an underage victim," Ziggy recited. "I think further investigation piecing together a proper timeline of this van journey might yield other results."

"So you want to throw it over to the Feds." Larry's face was glum; giving a case to the Feds meant losing any potential credit and recognition.

"Of course not, but I think, sir, it may be the only way to get the perps behind bars," Ziggy said carefully. "The ringleader, Preston, is a psychopath who will just go out and do it again if he gets away with it now. We could toss them at Florida, or D.C., or Virginia, but the strength of the case is the whole picture and not just individual incidents."

He trusted his boss to be fair-minded; Larry was one of the least homophobic cops Ziggy had ever met, and Ziggy knew he wouldn't let a rapist go loose just because he preyed on men rather than women.

"Let's do it. The chief'll have to make the call; I'll brief him." Larry scooped the paperwork towards him, and Ziggy inwardly sighed with relief.

* * *

Ziggy didn't dare tip Finn off, apart from a, "Hey, I've gotta case might come your way," remark at the end of one phone conversation.

"I'll keep an eye out," Finn batted back immediately, without asking for details. Ziggy was relieved; he didn't want to disclose what had happened to Chris and Edward unless it was professionally necessary.

And a couple of days later, Ziggy got a heads-up from the front desk. "Hey, there's a Fed on the way up to see you. The one without tits, worse luck."

Hurrah! Ziggy was genuinely pleased, but careful to keep his face schooled in a polite but not overly friendly expression when Finn walked in the room a few minutes later.

Finn was the stereotypical stoical suited federal agent. "Detective Bowie? I hear you've got a case for us."

"Agent Massey, let's go talk in an interview room. We can watch the videos there." Ziggy picked up the box of case paperwork and headed out of the squad room. Finn followed him into Interview Room 1, the least scummy of the station interview rooms, which was free. Ziggy checked to make sure the cameras and recording equipment were definitely off, and that nobody was lurking behind the one-way glass.

"Good to see you," Finn said, his voice carefully neutral, as they sat down at the table.

"And you," Ziggy said formally, and moved straight on to brief Finn on the case. He described the events at the club in as detached a manner as possible, and Finn responded in kind. Finn's professional mask only slipped when Ziggy mentioned the name of the vic.

"This is _Edward?_" Finn asked. "Your friend? The guy I met?"

"That's him," Ziggy confirmed. "And the perp, Preston, is an ex-boyfriend of his from college. It was an abusive relationship."

He'd learned more about this now, and what Linus had previously let slip had been accurate. The psycho-in-training Preston had preyed on a young, naive Edward and treated him like shit.

They talked through the various statements and background, and Ziggy showed Finn edited highlights (lowlights, rather) from the videos, explaining his contact with the police departments in other states, and the picture of events he'd managed to put together.

"We can do this," was Finn's eventual conclusion. "We can track that van properly across state lines, no problem. If we can get co-operation from the other police departments we can nail them for at least some of the crimes, and maybe identify some that you couldn't."

"Great." Ziggy was genuinely relieved. "You can take all this paperwork then, and the videos-'

They were interrupted by the phone at the side of the room. Ziggy went to pick it up, and it was the reception desk again. "Hey, Ziggy, there's a guy called Edward here to see you. You wanna see him?"

Edward! Ziggy couldn't have been more surprised. "Uh, okay. I'll be down in a sec."

He put the phone down and said to Finn, "Edward's downstairs. Must be about this case. I'll bring him in here, if you want to watch." He nodded towards the one-way glass.

Finn nodded, and when Ziggy returned to the room with Edward a few minutes later, the case files and videos were neatly stacked on the side and Finn was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry this isn't more welcoming, Edward, we're kinda short of meeting spaces here." Ziggy indicated to Edward to sit. He pulled a chair sideways on, so as not to make it across-the-table confrontational.

"That's okay." Edward sat hunched up, spectacles high on his nose, mouth downturned. "Ziggy, I want to press charges against Preston."

That...was unexpected. Ziggy sat back in his chair and pondered the implications. "What does Chris think?"

"He doesn't know I'm here. I thought I'd talk to you first."

"Why have you changed your mind?"

"Because I can't stand the thought he might get away with it," Edward said immediately. "I know you said you thought you could get him on other charges in other states, but if that's complicated, I don't want him to go free in New Jersey. I don't want to have him walking around, he might come back to the club, he might abduct someone else."

"That's all very laudable, Edward, but lemme play the defence attorney for a sec." Ziggy leaned even further back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the floor, and affected a cynical tone. "Edward, I understand you were previously in a sexual relationship with the accused. Is that correct?"

Edward colored. "At college, yes. We were young, it was a long time ago-"

"You were together for almost a year, I believe?" Ziggy cut in.

"It was an abusive relationship." Edward spoke in the tone of a realisation gained in therapy.

"A sexual relationship characterised by physical violence, that's what I'm hearing. Are you saying you were in a relationship against your will, Edward? An intelligent college-educated young man such as yourself couldn't get out of this relationship, and this went on for a year?" Ziggy's tone curdled.

"He was my first. I didn't know any better. I thought I loved him-"

"And then he dumped you. You loved him, now you hate him. Maybe he was just trying to resurrect this relationship, with its physical violence?" Ziggy didn't pause for an answer. "Edward, I understand you're now in a relationship with another man, is that correct?"

Edward's cheeks flamed. "I am."

"And is that sexually violent, may I ask?" Ziggy heard Finn's voice shout _Objection! _in his head, and changed tack. "Strike that last question. I understand you're not only in a sexual relationship with another man, but you're also married, Edward. To a woman. Now I'm a little confused here. Are you also a little confused? Confused to the point of mistaking a physical come-on from your ex for attempted rape-"

Edward raised his hands and bowed his head. "I get it, Ziggy. It couldn't go to court."

"Don't take it personally." Ziggy dropped the lawyer's voice and sat forward in his chair. "This is why so few rape cases even make it to trial. If it's not a stranger on the street, if there's any prior knowledge at all, it's the devil's own job to prove it's non-consensual."

"I should have realized." Edward rubbed his eyes. "I can hardly explain it all to Chris, let alone anyone else."

Ziggy sighed. "We can still get Preston, Edward. Just not for the attack on yourself and Chris. Leave it to the feds, Edward."

"Leave it to the feds? What if they screw up? How will I know?" Edward's voice rose. "If the first I hear is when Preston turns up on my doorstep with a knife-"

"That's not going to happen. I will keep informed and make sure-"

"You can't possibly make sure of anything!" Edward accused. "It's out of your hands. And you don't trust the feds, you've never had a good word to say about them, how do you know they'll tell you what's happening?"

Aware of Finn on the other side of the mirror, Ziggy felt his own cheeks burn. "Edward, please... trust me."

It sounded feeble. Ziggy searched for something more reassuring, but failed.

And suddenly the door opened, and in came Finn. Edward looked up first in surprise and then with recognition, and his jaw dropped. Ziggy tensed, unsure what was happening.

"Edward, I am Special Agent Fintan Massey," Finn said, his voice at its maximum tone of federal authority. "You have my word I will be keeping Detective Bowie here informed of what's happened. I will do my utmost to bring Preston and his colleagues to justice. If I have anything to do with it, they'll get ten years minimum."

"Uh... thank you, Agent-um-Massey," Edward stuttered a little under Ziggy's glare.

"You're very welcome," Finn said, his voice cracking a little. He turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.

Edward looked at Ziggy with wide eyes. Ziggy shook his head ever so slightly; _not now_. He waited a minute, then got up and walked out of the room, gesturing to Edward to follow. As they walked, Ziggy began to realize what a major gesture that had been for Finn to make; to open himself up to Edward in that way, not knowing what reaction he would get...

"Ziggy," Edward whispered once they were a few steps away down the corridor. "That was your- he's-"

"Not a word to anyone, Edward!" Ziggy was stern. "Not even Chris. That's really important."

"Oh, absolutely, cross my heart." Edward swiped a hand across his chest. "Thanks, Ziggy. I-I trust you."

"Thanks, and you're very welcome," Ziggy said gruffly.

END OF PART TWO. TBC

* * *

Next part: Finn meets Linus, and a young friend of his called Jeremy.


	23. Chapter 23: Ziggy part 3 of 4

**Title**: International Man of Mystery Part 3 of (probably) 4  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Ziggy/Finn, Linus, Jeremy. Cameo appearance by my two favourite doctors.  
**Warning**: reference to teenage sexuality  
**Beta**: I just couldn't do this without srsly_yes

**Summary**: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 3: Finn meets Linus; Ziggy and Finn meet a new friend of Linus's called Jeremy, and Finn has bad news.  
**Excerpt**: _"Ziggy, it's your Significant Other!" Linus exclaimed. "All these years I've been teasing you about him, I always thought it was only fifty-fifty he existed... and he does! And I get to speak to him!"_

**International Man of Mystery Part 3 of 4**

Ziggy opened his eyes and stared up at a blank white ceiling. Could have been home-but this wasn't home. He never woke up at home feeling this dopey and numb, not even after a serious drinking session the night before-

The stink of alcohol. Adrenalin shot through his system as he remembered; the demented father pouring vodka over his head, the click of the cigarette lighter, the kids screaming in the car, the barking dog-

He couldn't feel his hands. Panic coursed through Ziggy's veins as he strove to tip his chin downward and raise his arms. Thank God. Yes he still had hands. They were wrapped in swathes of bandages, but definitely hand-shaped bandage.

"Hey, you're awake!" A familiar-looking white-coated man beamed down from above. "Welcome back. You've been under some time."

"Where am I?" Ziggy croaked, his throat dry as dust.

"Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. You had a bit of an accident at work-"

"I remember." Ziggy remembered everything now. "He didn't want to be arrested, and he set fire to himself. I pushed him over and burned my hands."

"And he knocked your head on the cement garage floor, and caused a concussion. You have second degree burns on your hands. They'll heal, but they'd be hurting like hell if you weren't dosed up on some serious painkillers. Now if you'll just let me do some tests..."

"Wilson, what are you doing?" a new voice demanded. Ziggy twisted his neck to see a tall man with a scowl. He had a stethoscope draped around his neck, but no white coat. "We have a date. With Gravedigger. And this is not the Oncology ward."

"You know the ER is short-handed and Cuddy asked for volunteers," the doctor called Wilson said patiently. "You should have volunteered too, House. Now if you'll just let me finish..."

Ziggy submitted to being poked and prodded, and answering questions about his name and who the President was. He looked around the room a little as he did so; he was in a private room with glass walls, although blinds covered most of the view. He ignored the attempts of the guy called House to tell him that Abraham Lincoln had been shot last week, and instead tried to figure out why Wilson looked familiar.

"Can I go home?" Ziggy asked at the end. "I feel fine. I mean, considering." That was a lie, he felt like crap, but Ziggy had no wish to stay in hospital a moment longer than usual.

"Sucker for punishment," said House. "You're a cop. You have the right to remain silent. Lie back and eat some donuts."

"We need to observe you a bit longer following that concussion. Also, you're running a fever." Dr. Wilson tapped a chart. "Be patient. Put your feet up and relax for a couple days. You had plenty of visitors earlier, they'll be back to see you."

"Oh?"

"A bunch of your fellow cops, who left the box of donuts there, they told me to tell you that you're definitely stupid and not brave." Ziggy inwardly smiled. Wilson ticked off on his fingers. "Your sister who lives in Delaware who said Mom tells you to be more careful next time." Ziggy outwardly smiled.

"And a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt was just here," House chipped in. "Your golfing buddy? Said he waited an hour at the links for you yesterday and you are so dead when you wake up."

"Aw, shit." Ziggy was sorry to hear Linus had been left waiting.

And suddenly he remembered Finn. Panic rose in his chest. Finn would have missed him-Finn would have expected a call yesterday-Finn might have been trying to call him-

He had to call Finn. But how? There was a telephone on the nightstand, but he couldn't use his hands.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the doctors to make a phone call for him. But asking a complete stranger to speak to Finn stuck in his craw.

"Mr Hawaiian shirt's still here," House remarked. "I can see that shirt a mile off, he's over at the coffee machine."

Linus could make the call. Ziggy breathed again. "Can I see him?"

"Sure, we'll send him in," Wilson said easily. "Talk to you later, Officer Bowie."

As Wilson turned to go, Ziggy suddenly realized why he looked familiar; he looked rather like Edward, but without glasses. Huh. Ziggy wondered if Edward had any relatives in Princeton. He didn't think so.

House stomped off the other way, apparently toward the coffee machine as a minute later Linus appeared from the same direction. He chattered away as he sat down next to the bed.

"Ziggy! How wonderful to see you. That doctor was terribly rude and he just stole my cappuccino right out of my hand, but I'm so glad you're awake and receiving visitors. You'll have to tell me all about what happened. It sounds terrifying. What a job you have, dealing with criminals like that, setting fire to themselves-"

"Yeah, later. Linus." Ziggy struggled to keep his voice strong. "I need a favor."

"Anything, Ziggy sweetheart, anything," Linus declared.

"I need you to make a phone call for me."

"Of course." Eyebrow raise. "Now let's see, what phone call might you want to make? Your family already knows what happened, and your work colleagues..."

Ziggy closed his eyes and waited for the realization.

"Ziggy, it's your Significant Other!" Linus exclaimed. "All these years I've been teasing you about him, I always thought it was only fifty-fifty he existed... and he does! And I get to speak to him!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Ziggy was alarmed. "You get to dial. You get to hold the phone up to my ear. That's it. No chit chat."

"No chit chat," Linus agreed solemnly, and fished his cell out of his pocket. "Number?"

Ziggy recited the number, which he knew by heart and always had. Linus dialled and held the receiver to Ziggy's ear. But as the ring tone stopped and Finn's voice said a cautious, "Hello?" Linus whisked it away.

"Hey!" Ziggy shouted.

"Hello," Linus said into the phone, as Ziggy glared daggers and twitched his bandaged hands. "My name is Linus and I'm calling on behalf of my good friend Ziggy. I just wanted to say hi and let you know I'm delighted to talk to you at last."

"Uh..." There was a slight pause. "Is Ziggy okay?"

"Why yes, he's had an accident and he can't use his hands right now, but nothing life-threatening, no dreadful injuries," Linus chattered briskly, and Ziggy squeezed his eyes shut in despair. "He's right here, despairing of me. Hold on."

He returned the receiver to Ziggy's ear. Ziggy opened his eyes enough to give Linus the best death-glare he could muster, then said rather sheepishly, "Finn? It's me."

"Ziggy, what's wrong? I've been really worried," Finn blurted out, and Ziggy felt a hand clutching at his heart.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call you before. I was in a fire. I'm in a hospital, but it's not serious. It'll just take some time to heal and I've got these giant bandages on my hands which mean I can't do a fucking thing-"

"A _fire?"_Finn demanded. "What the hell?"

Ziggy explained a little more about what had happened. Linus sat back holding the phone at arms' length, and winked at him periodically.

"What hospital are you at?" Finn asked at the end.

"You're not coming to visit. There's no need-" Ziggy began.

Linus yanked the telephone back and said, "Princeton Plainsboro, visiting hours are eleven in the morning 'til nine at night."

"Linus!" Ziggy yelled, and dashed the receiver from Linus's hands with his bandaged mitts.

* * *

Ziggy told Linus very firmly that he was not gonna meet the voice on the phone, but knew inwardly that Linus was unlikely to be satisfied with that. Finn appeared the following afternoon, wearing dark glasses and clutching a gift box of candy, to Ziggy's amusement.

"Hey. No donuts?"

"I wanted to bring beer, but didn't think I could get away with it in a hospital." Finn sat down, opened the box, took a caramel and popped it in Ziggy's mouth. Ziggy grinned as he sucked on it, then swallowed, and they passed several minutes happily working their way through the layer.

"How're you getting on?" Finn asked.

"Alright." Ziggy hadn't seen either Dr. House or Dr. Wilson after the first time, the ICU doctors had rallied around to dress his hands and take his temperature. "Lots of visitors. Half the squad room came this morning, good of them to make it all the way to Princeton." He added in a casual tone, "You didn't have to come."

"Become a hero, end up in hospital, 'course I had to come." Finn was equally offhand.

Ziggy wasn't comfortable with that. "I'm no hero."

"I pulled the report by your partner who was there. You saved four kids and their pet puppy by tackling their meths-soaked father before he set fire to the car with them all in it," Finn recited. "Soaked in both senses of the word. Commendations galore for Officer Bowie and a nice boost for your promotion prospects next time around."

Ziggy could think of nothing to say except, "You shouldn't be able to pull our reports."

"Nope," Finn said with a grin, and offered a chocolate truffle.

Suddenly Linus burst in the door. "Good afternoon, Ziggy, how are you today? Oh, so sorry, I didn't realize you had a visitor!"

His fucking so-called friend was the hammiest old queen _ever_. Ziggy could do nothing but swallow the candy and glower, as Linus approached Finn and stuck out his hand. "My apologies for interrupting. I think we spoke on the phone yesterday. My name is Linus, and you are?..."

Ziggy saw Finn hesitate, and guessed he was wondering whether to give the Robert Stapleton pseudonym. But instead he said, "Fintan Massey. Pleased to meet you."

Whew! A real name admission, that was quite something. Ziggy found himself quite ridiculously pleased. Finn and Linus embarked on a brief polite conversation, and Ziggy sat watching and listening with great interest.

"You're in law enforcement too?" Linus asked at one point, and Finn merely smiled and nodded, not mentioning the Fed thing. Linus made the obvious assumption. "Ah, a fellow cop. How cute, love among the handcuffs and donut boxes."

"I don't eat donuts," Finn said.

"Of course not, or you wouldn't have that marvellous physique." Linus rolled his eyes admiringly down Finn's body. "Fintan Massey, I will go now and leave you in peace. It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise." Finn sounded sheepish.

* * *

A couple of months on, Ziggy's hands had healed nicely, and everything was back to normal. One weekend he and Finn found their usual hotel meeting place had been booked out for a golf tournament, so Finn made the trip down to the Jersey coast. They spent a very pleasant sunny afternoon on the beach, sunbathing and indulging in a spot of mini-golf which amused them both.

Finn sent the last little ball spinning into the hole, punched the air in mock triumph to applause from Ziggy, and mopped his brow. "I need a cold drink."

Ziggy had a bright idea. "Let's drop in on Linus, he lives just a few blocks from here. I'm sure he'd love to see you again, nosey bastard that he is."

Linus lived in a large and elaborate custom-built house with an extensive garden at the back. Ziggy parked at the back out of habit; there was a gate there to which he knew the access code (having recommended the security company to Linus, and then overseen the installation).

The end of the garden around the gate was rather overgrown. They trudged up a slope to approach the house through trees, and then Ziggy stopped dead. Linus was sunning himself on a lounger by the pool, no surprise there. But on the next lounger was a young man; skinny and dark-haired and..._how_young?

"Who's the boy?" Finn asked, over his shoulder.

Finn's choice of words made Ziggy's heart sink. "Dunno. Linus hasn't introduced us. I hope there isn't a reason for that."

Finn frowned, computing. "You're not telling me he's... into boys."

"He's not a pedophile," Ziggy jumped to defend his friend quickly. "He doesn't go for prepubescents. But he... does go for late teens. He likes that _barely legal_look."

"Ephebophilia," Finn supplied, and as Ziggy looked at him blankly, Finn added, "Sexual preference for mid to late adolescents."

Fucking great, there was a name for it. Very helpful. Ziggy mentally eyerolled as he admitted, "Sometimes I worry that they may not be legal after all. Day I first met him, he'd taken a fifteen year old into his house, who looked older. His father turned up and blew a hole in the ceiling with a shotgun."

"Statutory rape?" Finn queried.

Ziggy shook his head. "No, Linus never touched the boy, thank God. No charges."

"Then don't jump to conclusions," Finn advised, peering through the trees. "Anyway, this one looks sixteen to me. Old enough to consent, in this state. He could even be eighteen."

"Maybe." But Ziggy knew something was wrong, or Linus would have mentioned him. "Look, let's go back to the road and I'll call Linus and tell him we're coming to visit. We'll see if we get introduced or not."

"If you say so." Finn followed Ziggy back down the garden, and Ziggy made a call on his cell, telling Linus that he and Finn were outside and could do with a cold drink. Linus professed himself delighted to see them, and they trooped back up the garden again.

Linus hauled himself off the sun lounger as they approached, beaming. But Ziggy couldn't smile back, because the boy had vanished.

"Where is he, Linus?" Ziggy asked abruptly.

"Who?" Linus looked startled.

"The young man who was here with you by the pool a minute ago."

"Oh! You saw him." Linus dropped his eyes and Ziggy feared the worse. "His name's Jeremy. He's...staying with me for a while."

"Oh yeah? And why haven't you mentioned him before?"

"I didn't realize I had to tell you about all my house guests, Officer," Linus said peevishly.

"Don't jerk me around, Linus!" Ziggy felt his anger rising. "Is he a minor?"

"He's seventeen, and he's run away from home," Linus burst out. "That's why I didn't mention him."

A fucking runaway. School being cut. Parents potentially on the warpath. Ziggy could feel steam coming out of his ears. All this in front of Finn, too.

Finn, however, seemed to be taking events briskly in his stride. "What's he running away _from_?"

Linus threw him a look of gratitude, but Ziggy was in no mood to indulge crap. "What the hell does that matter? Linus, if you're fucking a runaway schoolboy-"

"He's not," a new voice chimed in, thin and reedy.

Everyone looked around to see Jeremy in the doorway to the house, his cheeks pink and his face pale.

"If you've come to arrest me, then arrest me, but don't blame Linus," Jeremy stammered over his words. "He's only trying to help me."

Ziggy found himself temporarily without words, but Finn stepped effortlessly into the breach. "Ziggy and I were really hoping for a cold drink on this hot day, Linus. Perhaps you could go get us some iced water or something, while we have a little chat with Jeremy."

Linus was on his feet instantly. "What a splendid suggestion. I have fresh lemonade on ice."

"Perfect, thank you." Finn was the epitome of politeness.

Linus vanished into the house, and Finn said smoothly, "Why don't we all sit down?"

Ziggy dropped into the nearest chair. Finn perched on a sun lounger, gesturing for Jeremy to sit on the one opposite. Jeremy did so, then repeated, "If you've come to arrest me-"

"We didn't come here to arrest anyone," Finn said, his voice friendly and neutral. "We came for a cold drink. My name is Fintan, and this is Ziggy, he's an old friend of Linus's."

Ziggy noticed Finn had given his real name, but then of course Linus knew it.

"But you're cops, right?" Jeremy asked.

"We're not on duty right now," Finn assured him. "How did you come to stay with Linus, Jeremy?"

Jeremy didn't say anything for a minute, then muttered, "I ran away from boot camp."

"What, summer camp?" Finn asked jovially. "Isn't that fun? Tents and campfires and-"

"No." Jeremy's voice was suddenly louder. "Boot camp, where they were trying to cure me."

"Cure you of what?" And as Finn voiced the question, suddenly Ziggy knew what Jeremy meant, and he felt his stomach lurch. Finn clearly realized too, as his voice faltered as he went on, "You mean... being gay."

"Yeah." Jeremy's voice was quiet again.

Finn bit his lip, then asked, "Can you tell us about it, Jeremy? I know you probably don't want to, but we'd like to try and understand."

"My parents call it conversion therapy." Jeremy stared at his feet. "It wasn't too bad at the start, lots of lectures, lots of preaching, playing sports. Lots of praying. I couldn't get into that. But it went on, and on, and on. They could see it wasn't making any difference to me, so they put me into different sessions. They put this-_thing_-with wires on my head and showed me..."

His voice faltered, and he stopped and swallowed hard. Ziggy and Finn waited.

"They showed me pictures in magazines, men without any clothes on. Gay porn mags," Jeremy said in a rush. "And each time they showed me one, they gave me an electric shock. And they showed me pictures of women too, but they didn't shock me then. Over and over again. I thought-I thought I would die. I wanted to die."

Silence.

"I told them I wanted to die, and that was a mistake. They put me in a little white room with padded walls, and took away almost all my clothes." Jeremy was forlorn. "I had to pretend I didn't want to die after all before they would let me out."

"Where was this, Jeremy?" Finn asked.

"Mississippi. I don't know exactly where-a couple of hours drive from where I live. Lived." Jeremy corrected himself. "You don't have any jurisdiction as cops in other states, do you?"

"I do," Finn said evenly, and Ziggy smiled inwardly at this admission of being a federal agent. "How did you get here, Jeremy?"

"I escaped. That was awesome." Jeremy brightened up, apparently reveling in his moment of power. "They let me out to play baseball. They liked to get us to play sports. It's masculine or something. I chased the ball out of left field and suddenly I saw there was a gate open for a delivery truck. And I got the ball and threw it back, and then I turned and ran and ran and ran right out of the gate."

"Cool," said Finn.

"Yeah. Except I had nothing with me." Jeremy deflated a little. "No money, no clothes 'cept the tracksuit pants and T-shirt I was wearing."

"So what did you do?" Ziggy was sucked into the story despite himself.

"I hid in the truck for a couple of days and I ate the stuff they were delivering, raw fruit and veg mostly." Jeremy pulled a face. "I heard the driver say he was going to the East Coast, and I decided I'd try and get to New York. I thought if I could get to a big city, I could vanish and my parents would never find me, and I could be free, and be who I want to be."

Ziggy and Finn were both silent for a minute.

Eventually Finn prompted, "So how'd you end up on the New Jersey shore?"

"I left the first truck 'cause it was going south, and I-um-hitched a couple of times." Jeremy looked a little cagey, and Ziggy guessed they weren't hearing the full story.

"Then I got to a gas station somewhere near here," Jeremy continued, and now Ziggy knew they weren't hearing the full story. The local gas station was a notorious cruising spot and exactly the right place for an attractive young man to earn some quick hard cash. "Linus found me and bought me a hot dog. It was the best thing I ever tasted in my whole life. And he took me home, and when I told him where I'd come from, he let me stay."

"And that's it?" Finn asked. "He just let you stay?"

"Yes." Jeremy sat up straight and looked directly at Finn for the first time. "I told him he could fuck me if he wanted, I'm old enough, but he won't. He hasn't laid a finger on me."

Hallelujah, Ziggy believed Jeremy was speaking the truth, and he could see that Finn did too. He was pleased that his friend was not behaving as sleazily as it had first appeared.

"So if you want to arrest me, arrest me, but not him," Jeremy concluded. He stuck out his arms, inviting handcuffs.

And Ziggy, sitting to one side, sucked in his breath at the sight of scars on the undersides of Jeremy's left wrist. Finn, seeing Ziggy's face, caught hold of Jeremy's hands and flipped them over. There were old faded white scars running straight up the arm, and newer red welts slashed diagonally across the top, healed but ugly.

Finn looked down, then up, then dropped Jeremy's hands and said, "We're not arresting anyone today."

"Well that is good news," Linus rumbled from the side, and as they all looked up at him, he put a tray down on the table containing a large pitcher of lemonade and four glasses.

"But perhaps we could have a word, Linus," Ziggy said, dry as dust.

"I have to pee." Jeremy took his cue, pouring himself a glass of lemonade and vanishing into the house.

"He might be old enough to consent, Linus, but he's still a minor. That means he doesn't get to decide where he wants to stay," Ziggy said, picking up the pitcher. "If he's been abused, he doesn't have to go back to Mom and Pop. There are shelters."

"_I _know he's been abused, _you_know he's been abused, is that what a judge is gonna say?" Linus demanded. "Surely his loving Mom and Pop wanted only what was best for their son. They probably spent a small fortune getting him this treatment to save him from monsters like me. Who's to say he isn't going to be sent straight back home?"

Ziggy was silent.

"And if not, how'd you think he'd fare in an institution?" Linus pushed. "Those shelters are full to overflowing. He's terribly emotionally fragile. I'm spending a lot of time telling him he's a good person because his self-esteem is shot to pieces. You spend years telling someone they're bad and they're going to hell, they start confused and they end up hating themselves. You saw those scars. He'll end up back on the street in no time, or hanging at the end of a rope."

Finn sipped lemonade and asked, "So what's your plan, Linus?"

"He'll be eighteen in five months time," Linus explained. "I know that's true; he has a plastic tag with his name and date of birth on it that he had to wear in the camp. He cut it off his wrist after he escaped, but he kept it. If I can just look after him until then, he can do what he wants and the parents can go to hell. He wants to live in New York, I can help him get a place to live there, and a job."

Finn looked at Ziggy, who shrugged helplessly.

"I'll tell you what I think," Finn said slowly. "I think maybe Ziggy and I never met Jeremy today. I think we're gonna go away from here none the wiser that he even exists. Maybe we'll hear about him and what he's doing in six months or so."

"Fintan Massey, you are a gentleman," Linus exclaimed, his tone joyful and relieved. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am, for darling Jeremy's sake."

"I suggest you carry on keeping your hands off him." Finn put the empty glass down. "Legal or not legal, if the shit hits the fan, it would help if you can play the soft-hearted pure-minded rescuer with a clear conscience. Thanks for the lemonade."

"You're very welcome," Linus said devotedly. "So nice to see you again, Finn."

Ziggy and Finn headed off back down the garden. When they were out of earshot, Ziggy said, "He's not gonna keep his hands off Jeremy, you know."

"No?"

"No." Ziggy knew Linus far too well to believe this for a minute. "He's the world's worst horndog. Five months alone in a house with a cute gay teen who thinks the world of him? No way."

Ziggy could picture it already. Linus might well have the best of intentions, but there would be a moment; Jeremy dozing on the couch, emerging from a shower, bending over the kitchen sink-it would happen.

"Well, it's not like he'll be popping the cherry," Finn opined. "Young Jeremy didn't hitch his way here by smiling nicely and making entertaining conversation."

"No," Ziggy agreed, relieved Finn had picked up on that too. "What d'ya make of that camp stuff? Sounds like a freaking nightmare."

"It is. I did reorientation therapy once." Finn wouldn't look at Ziggy. "Not in a camp. I referred myself to a counselor in college, after I'd been dumped by my fiancee. Thought I had to fix myself before that kind of thing happened again."

"Really!" They had gotten back to the gate at the end of the garden, and stopped walking.

"Yeah. I let people assume I was just seeing a regular shrink for stress, but instead I submitted to lots of bullshit about why I was attracted to men because of events in my childhood, and how I could change that." Finn rested a palm against the gate. "I went every week for a year, before I realized I was even more screwed up and depressed than when I started. I might have been the one slashing my wrists if I'd kept going."

Fucking hell. Ziggy could barely comprehend.

"I'm glad you stopped," he said at last.

"Me too. Or I wouldn't be here doing this." Finn turned and dipped his head for a kiss.

It was cool and shady down the end of the garden, and they stood there in a hug for some time.

* * *

Ziggy spent the next six months trying not to think about Jeremy, holed up in Linus's house, and mostly failing.

He thought about taking Jeremy away, but the possibility of being responsible for him being sent back to the camp, or back to the parents who had put him there, left bile in his mouth. He couldn't have that on his conscience. He couldn't guarantee a sympathetic judge. Even if he could, he couldn't guarantee a place in a decent shelter.

But he also didn't believe for one moment that Linus would keep his hands off his young companion. He knew his friend far too well.

Fuck it. It was the least bad solution.

Somehow he managed not to ask Linus about Jeremy for six months. It helped that Finn didn't talk about Jeremy either; he seemed indeed to have forgotten, although Ziggy was sure he hadn't. They were all engaged in a silent conspiracy to protect the young man at the center.

And then there came a golfing afternoon where Linus remarked with the utmost nonchalance just as Ziggy was about to tee off, "I've been meaning to tell you, Ziggy, about a friend of mine who's just moved to New York."

Ziggy took his time hitting the ball straight before replying carefully, "New York, eh?"

"Good shot. His name is Jeremy, very nice young man. I helped him find an apartment and a job," Linus said blithely. "You remember my theater friend, Lucien?"

Ziggy laughed at that. "How could I forget the poets."

Lucien owned an off-off-off-Broadway theater which hosted a ragged succession of short runs of obscure alternative plays, gigs by peculiarly discordant bands, and strange productions of modern dance. Ziggy wasn't the theater-going type, but he'd been dragged there once by Linus to see an evening of poets orating a range of eccentric works.

"Indeed. Anyway, Lucien's given Jeremy a job as all-round errand boy," Linus said happily. "It's early days but I have hopes it will work out well. Jeremy loves the theater; the smell of greasepaint, the roar of the crowd..."

"Excellent. Maybe I can meet him sometime." Ziggy squinted into sunlight.

"I am sure he would like that. Maybe he could meet one of your friends too." Linus's meaning was clear.

"Maybe."

* * *

But before Ziggy could arrange for himself and Finn to meet Jeremy, something else happened. Finn called to fix a meeting at short notice; most unusual. Ziggy traveled to their usual hotel with a sense of trepidation. Something was in the air.

Finn greeted him in their preferred room with a deep kiss, a brief hug, and major news. "I'm being transferred out of Newark."

Ziggy had been expecting this at some point. It was part of the deal for Feds; they had to be willing to work anywhere the Bureau sent them. He hoped it wasn't too far; somewhere else on the east coast, in the same time zone, would make life a lot easier. But it could be anywhere; he envisaged a long-distance relationship if Finn got sent to Alaska, or Hawaii... "Where?"

"I can't tell you." Finn's expression was taut. "I'm not just being moved to another office, I'm going to an undercover role."

_"What?"_Ziggy couldn't believe it. He remembered Finn's fake ID. "You mean you're going to be Robert Stapleton again?"

"No, it'll be a whole new identity. I'll be working in a company we're investigating, so I can see how it works on the inside. Look." Finn swallowed hard. "I won't be able to see you, or even speak to you on the phone."

Ziggy still couldn't believe it. "You're going undercover and you can't stay in touch with me at all? Surely you can make phone calls! Are your employers at your evil company going to be spying on you?"

"Maybe not, but my FBI handlers might be listening in," Finn's voice cracked a little. "They'll be keeping a close eye on me, as my backup. They won't care if I call my Mom once in a while, but they don't know about you. They can't know about you."

Fucking hell. Full realization dawned; Ziggy was a victim of Finn's secrecy and closeted-ness.

"So, that's it?" Ziggy said at last. "Wham bam, off undercover, and bye bye forever?"

"It could be for a few months or it could be longer." Finn's tone was the epitome of miserable. "I don't expect you to wait for me. But, I would like to wait for you."

Ziggy felt a lump in his throat. "I would like to wait for you too."

There was a pause. Ziggy realized they'd never said _I love you_, but now they didn't need to.

"Awesome." Finn's voice was a mere whisper now.

"What... what if something happens to you?" Ziggy asked, a trifle diffident but uneasily aware of the risks in this line of crime-fighting. "How will I know if you... get your hands burned?"

"It's corporate fraud I'm infiltrating, not the Mob," Finn hastened to reassure him. "White collar crime. Shouldn't be that risky. But, well, I can give Benitez your number, perhaps. She's going to be one of my handlers. I can tell her to add it to my emergency contacts. Only in case of real dire emergency, I mean."

"That would be good." Ziggy felt quite disproportionately relieved that he could maintain some frail thread of a link with Finn. "Can you give me _her_number? In case something happens to me, I mean, I can do the same."

Finn hesitated for a few seconds, presumably remembering the fire episode, before nodding. "Okay... but it would have to be a matter of life or death. Seriously."

"Seriously," Ziggy echoed.

END OF PART 3. TBC

**A/N**: Sorry I initially thought this was going to fit into three parts, but Jeremy was just way too engaging. Part 4 well on the way in draft.


	24. Ziggy part 4 of 4

******A/N:** Please note that some of the chapters in this fic feature House & Wilson, but this particular one doesn't.

* * *

**Title**: International Man of Mystery Part 4 of 4  
**Author**: hwshipper  
**Characters**: Ziggy/Finn, Chris/Edward, Linus/Jeremy  
**Beta**: srsly_yes is srsly_wonderful

**Summary**: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 4: Finn's working undercover and Ziggy doesn't know where he is.  
**Excerpt**: _It was like the first time he'd seen Finn in Chris's roadside bar. Finn hadn't seen Ziggy, but Ziggy spotted Finn instantly. _

**International Man of Mystery Part 4 of 4**

Six months passed.

Ziggy looked back on them as his six months in _deep freeze_. Life went on, and on the surface everything was just as always; work, golf, poker, beer, more work.

But there was no meeting with Finn to look forward to. No phone calls, no emails, and beneath the surface Ziggy was frozen. Not allowing himself to pine, he was essentially just waiting for Finn's return while not thinking too much about how or when that might happen. The prospect of a call from Benitez to report Finn dead or seriously injured was so horrific that Ziggy pushed himself further into the freezer rather than contemplate this for any length of time.

He didn't sleep with anyone else. He didn't want to. He kept his sex drive on a tighter rein than even in the pre-Finn days. He told Linus, Edward, and the very few other people who knew that he had a significant other, that Finn had gone away for work for a while, which was true. He didn't go into any further detail.

Meanwhile Linus saw Jeremy occasionally, and regaled Ziggy with news of how Jeremy was learning to be a stagehand, helping out painting and shifting scenery, and then one day declared that he and Ziggy really had to go visit.

"The theater is going to have an all-male modern dance troupe in residence for a few days, apparently they dance stripped naked to the waist most of the time," Linus gushed enthusiastically. "Lucien says we can have as many tickets as we want for the opening night. And we can see darling Jeremy."

"You arrange it, I'll come along for the ride." Ziggy wasn't bothered about the dance troupe, but figured it would be nice to have a long weekend in the Big Apple and see young Jeremy at last.

Linus talked Chris and Edward into coming too, and quite a few others, until they were a party of ten.

* * *

The theater weekend came. The party made their separate ways to the Big Apple. Linus drove Ziggy there, to a nice hotel off-off Broadway. Having checked in to separate rooms, they agreed to meet in the bar before taking a taxi to the theater.

Ziggy freshened up quickly and was down early. He glanced briefly around the bar, no sign of Linus yet.

But perched on a stool at the far end of the counter, was Finn.

It was like the first time he'd seen Finn in Chris's roadside bar. Finn hadn't seen Ziggy, but Ziggy spotted Finn instantly. He was clean-shaven, so looked very different-Ziggy had never seen Finn without his circle beard before-but it was definitely him.

On the stool next to him was a small woman with shoulder-length blond hair. They seemed to be chatting away. As Ziggy stared, she laughed at something he said, and flicked her hair back. Then she reached out and touched Finn lightly on the arm. He didn't reciprocate, but neither did he pull away.

_What the fuck was going on?_

Seeing Finn sliding off the stool, Ziggy slipped out of the bar and lurked behind a potted plant in the lobby. A minute later, Finn appeared without his lady companion and headed to the elevator. Ziggy craned his neck to see the button Finn pressed before the doors closed; tenth floor. He half-ran to catch the next elevator and took it to floor ten. He got out just in time to see Finn vanishing into a room at the far end of the corridor.

Ziggy walked briskly down to the same door, rapped and croaked through his nose, "Room service."

There came a scraping sound as the door was unlocked, then it opened a crack. Finn's voice, unmistakable. "I didn't order-"

Ziggy activated his aggressive cop door-shove and pushed his way in.

As Finn gawped, Ziggy could not help but contrast the experience with all the many times he had opened a hotel room door to find Finn on the other side. The smooth chin and hairless cheeks were a shock close-up, but worse than that; never before had he been greeted with such an expression of surprise, alarm and...horror.

_"Ziggy! _What are you doing here?_"_

"I'm in New York to go to the theater," Ziggy said coldly, closing the door behind him. "What are _you_doing here?"

Finn opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "I'm working undercover. You know I'm undercover!"

"Yeah. But I didn't realize working undercover meant spending your time drinking with friendly blond women."

And Finn's cheeks flushed red, and his eyes dropped to the floor. Ziggy, feeling his way with some difficulty, perceived guilt and embarrassment. He felt anger rise in his chest.

"What? Is she not just a _friend?"_

"Of course she's just a friend! I mean...she works for the company I'm working for. She's the bosses' secretary. She's the only one who can log into his computer. The Bureau encouraged me to...get to know her better."

Ziggy digested this with a growing sense of disbelief. "Is this a _honeytrap_?"

"We don't do honeytraps," Finn protested, then added weakly, "Not official ones, anyway."

"But unofficial ones are clearly fine." Ziggy could not have been more outraged. "They're encouraging you to get to know her better, and you're going along with this?"

"Look, we really can't talk now," Finn said desperately. "My handlers are coming-they'll be here any minute. They're going to mike me up before I have dinner with her. You have to go!"

"I'm not fucking well going anywhere until-"

And there was a knock at the door.

"It's them! Look-hide in the closet!" And Finn's panic was so real that Ziggy let himself be pushed into the closet.

The irony did not escape him.

Finn left the door open a crack, for air, Ziggy presumed. He cranked it open a little more so he could see out, and watched Finn let two men into the room; one little, one large. The little one was maybe five feet six tall and was busy chewing gum, the larger one topped six feet easily, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Both sported smart dark suits with ties. Ziggy would have clocked them as Feds from a hundred paces.

There was a lot of back-slapping and chat that Ziggy couldn't hear very well, then they got down to business. Little opened up a briefcase and removed a small black transmitter with a mike attached. Finn stripped off his shirt, and Large stuck the device to his chest with a roll of tape.

Ziggy couldn't help but notice that Finn had shaved his chest. It was a look Linus would have liked, although Ziggy preferred the sprinkling of hair that had once been there. He supposed the shaven look was necessary to avoid tape removal agony.

"There you go," Large said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Careful you don't end up going back to her room with her while you've got that stuck on your chest."

"You'd have to sneak off to the bathroom and take it off before she rips your shirt off," Little chortled. "Don't worry, we won't tell the girlfriend."

Finn's laugh was strained as he pulled his shirt back on. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"No? You're not doing your partner, the one with the-" Large mimed breasts.

"Benitez? She'd cut my balls off if I tried," Finn joked as he buttoned.

"Yeah, she probably would," Large agreed solemnly.

"Hey Finn, when you're out from under we should go back to that titty bar," Little suggested. "See if we can find that little redhead you hooked up with before."

"Uh, maybe." Now Finn's laugh really was strained. "Shouldn't you guys be going? I have to be down for dinner in a few minutes."

"We're going." Little closed the briefcase. "Okay, when you're ready to go downstairs make sure you turn the mike on. We'll be listening in from down the hall. See you later."

"See you," Finn echoed, and the feds left.

Finn closed the door carefully after them, and Ziggy watched him wait by the door, listening. A minute later, apparently satisfied they had gone, Finn strode back across the room and threw open the closet door.

Ziggy stepped out and pointed dumbly at Finn's chest.

Finn reached down to pull out the microphone wire out from the transmitter, showing that it couldn't possibly be broadcasting. "We're okay."

Ziggy was shaking so hard he could hardly get any words out. He licked his lips and came straight to the point. "What the hell was that titty bar stuff?"

Finn was beetroot-faced. "They took me there the last night before I went undercover. I pretended I was having a good time, and ended up in a room with this woman. I told her I had a headache and paid her off, she was happy and went home to her kid early that night."

"And you let them think you fucked her." Ziggy could not have been more disgusted.

"It was the easiest thing to do." Finn stared at the floor.

"You're a coward," Ziggy burst out.

Finn flinched. "That's not fair."

"Oh yeah? You know, when I was in college and police academy, I got a lot of homophobic shit shoveled on me." Ziggy spoke slowly and deliberately. "Porn left in my locker, graffiti in the men's room, jokes about dropping the soap in the shower, I got called a _fucking faggot _every day."

Finn looked hunted. "And?"

"Sometimes I wondered if I'd made a mistake being out, maybe I should have stayed in the closet like some other guys there were." Ziggy was blunt. "But now I realize I did the right thing. 'Cause _nothing_ I ever endured in all those years was anything like as humiliating as the crap _you_put up with every day."

Finn hung his head. "But what can I do?"

Ziggy didn't hesitate. "You tell your handlers that you're not going through with this honeytrap bullshit, because you're in a committed relationship."

"I can't do that." Finn covered his face with his hands. "I was supposed to tell them about relationships before I went undercover."

"Then stop lying to them and tell them now."

"I can't! It would jeopardize the whole operation. And anyway, they'd want to know who you were. If you were a woman it might be okay, but..."

As Finn's voice trailed away Ziggy felt something snap inside his chest, followed by a long unraveling of hope and patience. Suddenly he felt very calm.

"Then I've had it." Ziggy flicked a hand in a gesture of dismissal as he walked toward to the door. "We're finished. I'm not propping up your closet a moment longer."

"Ziggy...please..." Finn stuttered.

"Goodbye, Fintan Massey," Ziggy said, opening the door. "Good luck with the job."

He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door softly behind him.

* * *

Only half way down the corridor did he start to tremble. He stabbed at the button to call the elevator three times before succeeding. Down in the hotel lobby, he might have wandered randomly out into the street, except that someone was waiting for him by the door.

"Ziggy! You're late, I was about to call you!" Linus grabbed him by the arm, and concern flickered across his face. "Ziggy? What's happened?"

"I just saw Finn with someone else." Ziggy couldn't help but blurt it out. "He's a lily-livered scumbag and I never want to see him ever again."

"Oh." Linus frowned, then held up his hand for a cab and declared, "It sounds to me, Ziggy, like what you need is a couple of hours watching hot half-naked young men cavorting around a stage."

* * *

Everyone else was already there at the theater, milling around with drinks in the foyer. Linus zipped off to talk to Lucien, their host, but not before shoving Ziggy in the direction of Chris and Edward. "Darlings, look after Ziggy for me!"

Chris looked mystified and Edward surprised, but they each took one look at Ziggy's face and rallied around. Edward slung an arm around Ziggy's shoulders and moved him clear of the group.

"Wanna talk about it?" Edward said softly in Ziggy's ear.

"Nope," Ziggy said tersely, and Edward immediately started chatting about the terrible journey he and Chris had had driving up from New Jersey.

Meanwhile Chris vanished and returned with a beer and a neat whisky quicker than Ziggy would have thought humanely possible, given the crush at the bar. He was accompanied by someone who made Ziggy suddenly smile despite the madness raging inside his head; Jeremy, clad in jeans and T-shirt, looking relaxed and happy and older than Ziggy remembered him. He'd had a haircut, maybe that was it.

"Hey," Ziggy said gruffly, reaching out a hand.

"Officer Bowie, I presume," Jeremy said with a handshake and a wink, and Ziggy belatedly remembered that he wasn't supposed to have met Jeremy before. It seemed much less important now than it had once done.

He accepted both the whisky and beer from Chris, and took a gulp of the first followed by a swig of the second. The alcohol zipped through his system, and suddenly life seemed a little more tolerable.

The hot half-naked dance troupe were a welcome distraction. They didn't require much concentration, and Ziggy watched in a daze. Bare chests with prominent nipples, well-muscled shoulders and tight pants paraded before him, and he saw them, even appreciated them. But it was as if they existed in a parallel universe.

Afterward the party decamped by cab to Lucien's home, a very nice pad on the Upper East Side. It had a roof garden where drinks were served. Ziggy grabbed a beer and went to hide in a dark corner, but found himself followed by Jeremy and Edward.

Jeremy sat on one side of him and Edward on the other. Edward asked, "Ziggy, what's wrong What's happened?"

Suddenly Ziggy realized that he was with the two people in the world who not only knew about his relationship with Finn, but also that Finn was a federal agent. Sick and tired of bottling everything up, he spilled a little.

"I just broke up with Finn."

Jeremy sighed and Edward sucked in his breath.

"He's been working undercover for the last six months investigating corporate fraud. I just bumped into him in my hotel, at the bar." Ziggy bit the words out. "He's busy male-bonding with his Bureau buddies by going to strip joints and pretending to sleep with women."

"Oh my God, that's terrible." Jeremy put a hand over his mouth.

"Fuck." Edward kept it simple.

"Now the Bureau are edging him toward a honeytrap with a woman co-worker," Ziggy went on, becoming more bitter by the second. "He's too yellow to tell them why this is fucking not right."

"Do you actually not trust him with women?" Edward said with much curiosity. "I mean, we're not all on the far end of the Kinsey scale like, um, Chris, Linus and yourself. Do you think he might be bi?"

"No, actually I don't." Ziggy spoke honestly. "I think he worked through that a long time ago, back in college, but he's too chicken-shit-scared to follow through what it all means."

Chris wandered up, dangling a beer bottle between fingertips, and sat down next to Edward. Edward put out a hand and interlaced fingers with Chris; not for the first time, Ziggy admired how beautifully Chris and Edward went together.

"Uh Ziggy, thought you might like to know, Linus thinks you need to get laid," Chris said awkwardly. "He's talking to Lucien about lining up one of the dancers for you."

"What the hell!" Ziggy felt steam coming out of his ears. "Just because that's how _he_makes himself feel better-"

"I did try to tell him." Chris held his hands up. "He means well, Ziggy."

"You can go tell him to stick his dancing whore up his own ass." Ziggy stood up. "How much is a taxi home, do you think? Upper East Side to the New Jersey shore-"

"What?" Edward and Jeremy said together.

"You're going home?" Chris asked.

"I'm not going back to that fucking hotel knowing Finn's lurking undercover on the next floor." Ziggy had never felt anything more strongly in his life.

"You can come stay at my place," Jeremy offered immediately. "It's small, but I'd love to have you."

Ziggy hesitated. That-sounded alright. He didn't really want to take an absurdly expensive taxi all the way home in the middle of the night. "Okay, maybe I will. Thanks."

"Your luggage'll be at your hotel," Chris pointed out.

"I'm not going back." The hotel could junk his overnight stuff for all Ziggy cared right now. "The room's all paid up."

"I'll go get your things for you," Edward offered.

"No." Ziggy didn't want Edward traipsing across town for him. "It doesn't matter. I don't need anything tonight."

"Tomorrow, then. Chris and I are staying at a hotel just a block away from yours. I'll go get your stuff after breakfast and bring it to Jeremy's." Edward looked at Jeremy. "Is that okay?"

"Fantastic," Jeremy assured them.

That also sounded alright. Ziggy hesitated, then nodded. He gave Edward the plastic key card to his hotel room. "Don't bump into Finn if you can help it."

* * *

Jeremy's home was indeed small, one room in a echoing house with a shared kitchen and bathroom. But it was cozy, and Jeremy was so obviously proud of it that Ziggy felt proud of him.

"You can have the bed, I can sleep on the couch," Jeremy offered.

"No no, I can take the couch," Ziggy said hastily.

Jeremy protested, but gave way, and Ziggy settled himself comfortably under blankets on the couch. The bed was down the other end of the room, with a two-panel bamboo screen dividing the space although not adding much in the way of privacy.

Contrary to his expectations, Ziggy fell almost immediately into a deep alcohol-massaged sleep. He dreamed of Fintan Massey. It was the first time he'd dreamed of Finn since he'd gone away, as if he'd been keeping his subconscious self on as tight a rein as his conscious self. Now he'd seen Finn, all bets were off.

His mind raced off and took him to earthy was sucking Finn's cock. It hardened quickly under his tongue; it felt thick and raw in his mouth. Musk filled his nose and thrilled all his sense. Then Finn was sucking his cock, and he knew exactly what to do. How to move his mouth _back _and forth, _up_and down; shuddering pleasure arched its way up Ziggy's spine to form mute, wordless cries...

He woke with a jump, and an enormous hard-on. He stayed still for several minutes, breathing shallowly, trying to will it away; no go. He was too inhibited to finish himself off with Jeremy sleeping down the other end of the room; he knew Linus in a similar situation would have simply jacked off, but then Linus wouldn't have been sleeping on the couch in the first place.

Ziggy hauled himself up with some difficulty, and slipped out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom as quietly as possible. Safely behind a locked door, he perched on the edge of the bathtub and jacked himself off. It took seconds, and left him weak and wondering if maybe Linus had been right about getting laid after all.

He slipped back into Jeremy's room and to the couch, thinking he'd been quiet enough until Jeremy's voice sounded quietly through the darkness. "Hey. You okay?"

"Peachy," Ziggy responded, pulling the blankets around himself again. "Sorry I woke you."

"S'okay." Jeremy didn't sound sleepy at all. "I like having people around. I haven't lived on my own before and it can get a bit creepy sometimes at night."

Ziggy pondered the situation of the eighteen-year-old Jeremy, living independently in New York City after a childhood with parents in rural Mississippi and a stint staying in Linus's home. Could the kid cook for himself? Would he know how to clean? Ziggy tried to remember himself aged eighteen. He thought he'd been fairly clueless.

"You managing okay here? Can you pay bills and stuff?"

"Oh yes, very well. I can afford my rent and everything I need, just about, from my job." Jeremy turned chatty. "Everyone at the theater is very nice. I've made some good friends and they help me a lot. And Linus visits quite often and stays over. It saves him paying for a hotel room."

Ziggy knew Linus frequently had to come to the city for business reasons. An ephebophile with a grateful eighteen-year-old ass on tap in his own place. Linus would be in hog's heaven.

"I bet he doesn't sleep on the couch," Ziggy found himself saying.

"Well, no," Jeremy admitted. "But it's not what you think."

_Oh puh-lease._Speaking into the darkness of the room emboldened Ziggy. "Jeremy, if you try and tell me Linus isn't fucking you, I just won't believe you."

"No, I mean, yes, he is now. But he didn't touch me until I turned eighteen," Jeremy insisted. "He said we should wait."

What clearly sounded _romantic_ to Jeremy sounded like _grooming_to Ziggy's law enforcement ears.

"Not just that," Jeremy pursued. "He waited until I'd moved out of his house, was all set up here, and then he said he would just leave if I wanted, get out of my life, no obligations, no nothing. And I said... no, I want you to stay." Pause. "So, he stayed."

Ziggy ruminated on this. It had the ring of truth. His cop cynicism faded; Jeremy was one of those transparently open people, barely capable of lying. And indeed, why lie at this point anyway?

"Linus is a good person," Jeremy said unexpectedly. "You worry about him too much,"

"I have too." Suddenly Ziggy felt tired. "It's my job to. I know that one day he's going to screw up with someone who turns out to be just too young, and he'll get into seriously grave trouble. He'll wind up in jail labeled a pedo, and the other prisoners will kill him. I won't be able to do a fucking thing to help."

"You should have more faith in him to do the right thing," Jeremy insisted. "He's your friend, give him more credit." Pause. "Same with Finn. You should trust him."

Ziggy was very still.

"I was thinking about it. You called Finn a coward, but he's not, is he?" Jeremy pushed on. "He couldn't possibly do his job if he was a coward. Nobody could go and do undercover work if they weren't awfully brave."

"Or stupid."

"Brave," Jeremy persisted. "Like you, Linus has told me about some of the things you've done, how you got promoted a few months ago after-"

"I just do my job," Ziggy interrupted. "And that's all Finn's doing too. His job."

"Maybe he couldn't do that job if he were out," Jeremy suggested. "Maybe it's like the army. Don't ask, don't tell? If he told, maybe he'd have to leave?"

Ziggy sighed. He'd discussed this kind of thing with Finn in the past. "It's one of those things that shouldn't be a problem, but he'd likely get a hard time. There was a Fed a few years ago, guy called Frank Buttino. He lost his security clearance and then got fired when they found out he was gay."

"Then it could be Finn has to choose between you or the job," Jeremy said gravely. "That's a tough position to be in, if he loves his job."

Ziggy had no words. Jeremy didn't say anything more either, and gradually Ziggy felt sleep overwhelming his buzzing brain again.

* * *

The following morning Ziggy had barely gotten up when the doorbell rang, Jeremy went to answer and returned accompanied by Edward with Ziggy's small overnight bag. He put the case down in the middle of the floor. "Hey, I think I found everything. You hadn't really unpacked."

"No," Ziggy agreed. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Chris is having breakfast at the hotel with Linus and one of the dancers. I think Linus decided if you didn't want to have a dancer, he might as well," Edward said drolly.

Ziggy laughed at that. "Very Linus."

"Shall we go get some breakfast too?" Jeremy suggested. "There's a great diner just around the corner."

But before Ziggy could answer, the doorbell rang again. They all looked at each other in surprise, then Jeremy went to answer.

"Hi, I'm looking for Officer Bowie," a female voice chimed through from the hall.

Ziggy felt his jaw drop. It was Finn's partner, the Fed With. What the hell was she doing here?

Jeremy came back into the room, brow furrowed, and right behind him was Agent Benitez. She was immaculately turned out in smart pants and a jacket. She came straight up to Ziggy and held out a hand.

"Hi, I'm Hilary Benitez. I think we've met before, briefly."

"Yeah." Ziggy shook her hand (a firm shake) but could hardly look at her.

"I was hoping we could have a little chat." Benitez glanced first at Jeremy, then at Edward.

Edward took the hint. "We'll be out in the kitchen, Ziggy, give us a shout if you need us," he said, grabbing Jeremy by the arm and yanking him out of the door.

Alone with Benitez, Ziggy sat down on the couch. He felt scruffy and unshaven, and uncomfortably aware that he'd been sleeping right there on the sofa under blankets barely half an hour ago.

She perched nearby on a mismatched chair, and seemed content to spend a few minutes just looking around the room.

"How did you find me?" Ziggy couldn't help but start the conversation. Fucking Feds, they'd probably bugged him or something.

"I was waiting for you to come back to your hotel room this morning. But instead your buddy turned up and left with your case," Benitez explained. "So I followed him here."

"But why were you looking for me?" Ziggy demanded, racking his brains for everything he knew about Benitez. Precious little, actually.

"I wanted to tell you about something I heard last night," Benitez sat back in the chair. "A conversation between my partner Fintan Massey, whom I believe you know, and a female target he was having dinner with."

What? The honeytrap woman? Where the hell was this going? Ziggy couldn't tell at all. He hated it, but had to just keep listening.

"Their conversation was being transmitted to myself and a couple of my colleagues in another room, we'll call them Bert and Ernie," Benitez said briskly. (Little and Large, Ziggy assumed, and almost smiled). "Agent Massey was making polite conversation about a movie with the target, let's call her Susan."

Her name was presumably anything but Susan. Ziggy's heart was beating so hard he could hardly hear.

"Susan put the moves on him, and Bert and Ernie and I sat listening, wondering how he was going to handle this, how he was gonna get out of it," Benitez went on. "And to our surprise, he told her he couldn't go to bed with her because he was gay. Bert and Ernie thought this was an ingenious way out of the situation, they laughed and admired his nerve. Me, I sat and listened to a coming out story."

Ziggy tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Susan was shocked and asked him lots of questions. How long had he known, was he sure? Massey told her he'd always known, although he'd tried to suppress it, tried to deny it even to himself; that he'd eventually accepted it, but not dared to tell anyone," Benitez recited. "He said his Mom and family had no idea. Nor his work colleagues. By which Susan assumed he meant herself and her co-workers, but I didn't hear it like that."

No, indeed. Finn had done it, he'd come out to his Bureau colleagues... but what a way! While undercover, in a different persona, using a microphone taped to his chest.

"Susan lapped it up," Benitez said in a tone of wonder. "She asked him if he had a boyfriend, to which he said no. But then he told her that he'd been in a long-term relationship that had ended badly, and left him heartbroken; and that he hadn't realized how important this person had been to him until he lost him. Then he broke down in tears-awesome acting, Bert and Ernie thought-and she broke down right there with him."

Ziggy hadn't cried since he was three years old. He'd sometimes thought his tear ducts had long-since shrivelled away, but now found this was not the case. They'd just been biding their time, waiting for the moment where nothing else would do. Ziggy dropped his head and cried there right along with Finn and Susan.

Benitez mercifully didn't try and console him, but waited until his sobs had reduced to sniffs before finishing her story. "Massey and Susan ended up swapping hankies and patting each other on the back. And in return for his confidence, she told him about the affair she'd recently had with her boss-which was very interesting news to us all-which had also ended badly. She was quite bitter and vehement; said among other things that she used her pet name for him for his computer password. Also very interesting news for us, as you can imagine."

"Glad the Bureau got something out of Finn's ingenuity." Ziggy couldn't help but be bitter himself.

"Oh, it got better!" Benitez said brightly. "Susan then excused herself to go to the bathroom to wash away the tear stains, and left her coat behind with her keys in the pocket. Finn had been waiting days for a chance to get an impression of her office key, he had the wax right there in his own pocket. We got it off him along with the microphone afterwards, and Bert and Ernie had a new key cut by midnight. It could crack the whole case; we're researching pet names right now."

"And Bert and Ernie still think this was all Finn's cunning plan, to get Susan to open up?" Ziggy asked incredulously.

"Yes, but right now I think that's a good thing, no point distracting them," Benitez was practical. "Massey-Finn, laid the groundwork for later on."

"Will he get in trouble?" Ziggy remembered Jeremy's query. "It's not like _don't ask, don't tell_, is it?"

"No, the Bureau talks the talk about embracing diversity these days." Benitez hesitated. "I'm not gonna pretend they always walk the walk too. It depends on behavior and judgement and all sorts of stuff like that. But Finn's going to be in a real strong position when he comes out from undercover, 'cause if he's cracked the case like I think he just has, he'll be a fucking hero and nobody can take that away from him."

"Just doing his job," Ziggy muttered.

"It would actually help if he was in an open committed relationship, you know. Less chance of blackmail and so on. When he gave me your number as an emergency contact I couldn't believe he just didn't 'fess up to me," Benitez went on chattily. "Christ knows, I think it's the worst kept secret I've ever seen. But then it's amazing how blind people like Bert and Ernie can be if they're not looking for it."

That was very true; Ziggy knew it himself. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Thanks for coming to find me. Uh, maybe you could give him a message?"

"Not right now," Benitez said cautiously. "Maybe in a few days. Something I can say in front of Bert and Ernie."

"Fine." Ziggy struggled to find a suitable sentence. "Tell him... tell him his golfing buddy in New Jersey says hi, and he should get in touch when he's free and we'll have a game sometime."

"Will do." Benitez stood up, smoothing her pants legs down. "Good to meet you properly, Officer Bowie."

And she was gone. Ziggy went into the hall to check she'd actually left, then went to the kitchen where Jeremy and Edward were waiting. Jeremy was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, Edward perched right on the edge of chair, apparently on tenderhooks.

"Is everything all right?" Edward asked.

"Yeah. You know, I think it is," said Ziggy, dazedly. "Shall we go get that breakfast?"

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Ziggy and Linus simultaneously shouldered their golf bags and strolled companionably toward the next hole. It was a sunny, fall day with russet leaves drifting down from the trees around.

"So what's new with you?" Ziggy asked, placing the ball on the tee.

"Ah, I saw darling Jeremy last weekend." Linus watched Ziggy take the shot. "He says hello. He's got a proper assistant stagehand role for the next production at the theater which he's very excited about. Do you know he's been there nearly a year now? He's coming up for his nineteenth birthday. I was quite shocked to realize."

"Practically middle-aged," Ziggy joked.

"Also, he has a boyfriend." Linus lined up his own shot. "Very nice guy, although I was a bit surprised when I met him. Tall man with a giant spider tattoo covering most of his shaven head, and part of his face."

"Whoa!" Ziggy was amused. "Well, it takes all sorts."

"indeed. I'll probably be staying with dear Jeremy less often from now on," Linus said rather sadly, squinting to see where his ball had gone. "The spider tat boyfriend seems very laid back about everything, but I don't want to cause any ripples."

It wasn't often that Ziggy spotted Linus in _lonely_mode, he was always so busy and had so many friends; but Ziggy knew that Linus envied people in relationships, such as Chris and Edward, and occasionally wistfulness seeped through his breezy persona. Ziggy sought to move the subject on.

"You could get a tattoo yourself," Ziggy suggested, as they started to walk toward the next hole. He himself had a couple of tats, but had been careful to ensure they were discreet and invisible under clothing.

"No, no, I'm far too much of a coward about pain for anything like that-Hey!"

A golf ball sailed high over their heads, toward the next hole. They both gaped at the shot (pretty accurate) and turned to see where it had come from them. About fifty feet behind them, clutching a club, was Finn.

"It's the Significant Other!" Linus gabbled in excitement. "My word, he looks good!"

He did. He looked just like he always had; the neatly clipped circle beard was there, the tousled hair. Ziggy felt his heart jump; Fintan Massey was back.

Linus stayed discreetly where he was as Finn walked toward them. Ziggy approached in turn, and they met halfway.

"Hey," Finn said awkwardly as the gap between them closed to a couple of feet. "I hear you said we could have a game of golf when I was free, Well, I'm out."

"From undercover?" Ziggy guessed.

"That too," Finn said.

That was all Ziggy needed to know; he threw out his arms and held Finn tight.

END


End file.
